The woman who lived next door to my house was called Dr. Valeria Morales.

He was in his early forties. He always dressed in simple elegance, walked in a hurry, and carried on his face the silent weariness of one who carried an invisible weight on his shoulders.

Later I learned that she was a gynecologist in one of the largest hospitals in Guadalajara.

But at the time, all I knew was that he worked too many hours and almost never smiled.

Our interactions were limited to brief greetings when we took out the trash or picked up mail in the mailboxes in front of our homes.

Sometimes she noticed that the light on her front porch stayed on until very late at night.

There were nights when his car arrived after two in the morning.

And sometimes she looked so exhausted that I wondered how anyone could live that way.

But I never asked him.

Life has a strange way of keeping strangers apart… until the exact moment they are destined to meet.

That moment came during a heavy autumn storm.

The wind blew so hard that the trees in the neighborhood leaned and the windows of the houses vibrated with each gust.

Around ten o’clock at night, the electricity was cut off all over the street.

Darkness enveloped the neighborhood, leaving only the sound of rain hitting rooftops and the distant echo of thunder in the sky.

I went out with a flashlight to check the electrical switch in my garage.

It was then that I noticed a dim light coming from Valeria’s house.

Curiously, I walked a little closer.

And then I saw her.

She was sitting on the front porch steps, wrapped in a thin blanket, holding a small flashlight.

His posture was down.

His shoulders looked heavy.

For the first time in all the years we had been neighbors, it looked fragile.

I stood there for a few seconds, hesitating before approaching, not knowing whether I should interrupt her…

The rain was pouring down on the porch roof, and the wind made the shadows dance around the small lantern she held in her hands.

I finally mustered up the courage to speak.

“Doctor Valeria?” I said softly. “Is everything okay?”

She slowly looked up.

The warm light from the flashlight illuminated his tired face. For the first time I noticed something I had never seen before: his eyes were red, as if he had been crying.

He tried to smile, but it was a fragile smile.

“Hello, Alexander,” he replied quietly. “Sorry if I worried you. Just… I needed to sit down for a moment.

I got a little closer, keeping a certain distance so as not to make her uncomfortable.

“The storm is strong,” I said. “Do you want to come to my house? I have a gas stove and some hot coffee.

She hesitated for a moment.

Then he shook his head softly.

“Thank you… but I’m fine here.

There was a silence between us.

The rain continued to hit the ground and the wind stirred the trees in the neighborhood.

Then she said something unexpected.

“Alejandro… have you ever thought about how many lives pass through our hands… without anyone knowing?”

The question surprised me.

“I’m not sure I understand,” I replied.

She looked out into the darkness of the street.

“I’m a gynecologist,” she said. “Everyone thinks it’s just a job. Bringing babies into the world. Consultations. Births.

He was silent for a moment.

“But the truth is much heavier than that.

I didn’t know what to say.

Then she sighed deeply.

—This week I helped six babies to be born.

His eyes flashed slightly.

—Six new lives.

A small smile appeared on his face.

“But I also had to accompany a woman who lost hers.

I felt a knot in my chest.

“And another… who discovered that she will never be able to have children.

The wind blew harder.

Valeria looked at her hands.

“People think that doctors are strong… that we are used to pain.

H