Night had fallen over the outskirts of Curitiba, Brazil. Lucano drove alone through the howling storm. Fierce winds pressed against the car, shaking it as if nature itself were trying to push him off the road. Every turn of the steering wheel demanded all his strength, yet he could not allow himself to lose hope—for him, losing hope meant destruction. His wife, Isabela, heavily pregnant, waited at their home, but the local hospital could not admit her. The storm had cut the power, and even the backup generators had failed. There was no one there who could help. Lucano had no choice. He had to drive the one-hour road to the city center, through rain-soaked streets and treacherous winds, praying that the larger hospital would still be operational—and that it would not be too late to save both Isabela and their unborn child. Every mile was a battle against the elements, and every heartbeat a reminder that some forces—nature, fate, time—were beyond human control. Yet he pressed on, because the only way forward was through the storm. Isabela is in her 40th week of pregnancy, and if Lucano cannot reach the hospital now, dire consequences will befall them.