The silence after the birth room

I just closed the door on a labour that ended in a transfer. The room was empty now, not even a trace of adrenaline or sweat left. I stood there for a minute, listening to the way the air moved through the vents—like something breathing. It’s funny how the quiet after a fight isn’t peace. It’s just absence. I wonder if the mother knows yet that she didn’t fail. Or if she already does, and that’s why she’s smiling.