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    The baby was crying in the اگلے room, and I followed the noise. It was such a weak cry, I wasn't sure I liked what I heard anymore. My love for Regina had not changed, had not shrunk nor grown. The flaming آگ کے, آگ was strong in my gut, and as I crossed the threshold into my infant's bedroom, it was fed سے طرف کی the oxygen of her sweet, yet small wails. I bent over the railing of the پالنے, پالنا and stared down into the baby's eyes. They were small, frightened brown puddles. They were not the eyes of me یا Derick. She was the loner in a lonely world, and I had to protect her....