In the corridor outside the ICU.

Through the transparent glass window, Dorothy saw the pale Belle lying on an operating table inside. She clenched Germaine's wrist and felt that she had lost all her strength on her feet. It was as if they were nailed to the ground, unable to move.

In just a few days, her baby girl had lost a lot of weight. Her face had turned paler than ever. Her hands anxiously grabbed a corner of the white sheet tightly as if it was the only way she could feel at ease.

It seemed like she was murmuring, calling out, "Mommy, Mommy!"

"Belle, I'm sorry. Mommy has...