I rush into the corridor. It’s crazier than usual. Along with the rolling gurneys and rolling wheelchairs, along with the patients walking with dangling IV packs, along with doctors and nurses and flower deliveries and meal deliveries, there are uniformed and plainclothes police officers, and right in front of me is the head of ob-gyn, Dr. Rudra Sarkar. Rudi, but I have never called him by that name. I have never seen Dr. Sarkar flustered or angry. Today is no exception.

Sarkar smiles at me and says, “I hope you don’t mind that I looked in on your birthing procedure today, Ms. Ryuan.”

Along with his good looks, his accent is seductive—slightly British with the tiniest Indian inflection. But I put myself on hold. I’m one of those women who is highly suspicious when a guy is extremely handsome. No foolish schoolgirl am I when it comes to men, but there is something fairly enticing about Rudi.

Before I can respond, he says, “I have not seen that old-fashioned water breech procedure since I was in Doctors Without Borders in Kolkata.”

He says Kolkata, not Calcutta. Cool. Cool until I realize his warm observation may actually be veiled criticism.

“Well, it seemed worth a try,” I say.

“And it was surely a try worth taking. Sometimes the oldest methods are the best, when used properly. That’s what you did.”

Damn it. Now I am feeling a little like a schoolgirl. “Thank you. It seems to have worked.”

“Yes, indeed. You are living proof that in a decade or two all obstetricians will be replaced by midwives. And perhaps that is the way it should evolve.”

That flattery had the annoying scent of bullshit to it. The schoolgirl in me is now vanishing fast. In fact, it is not only vanishing but being quickly replaced by the chief midwife, who hates any sort of main hospital interference.

“Can I ask you something, Dr. Sarkar?” Big smile from Sarkar, big nod also. I continue: “Why would a hospital staff member like you, the chairman of the department, even look in on a midwife birthing?”

“Well, I was passing by, and I thought—”

“And you thought you’d take a look and report back to our CEO, Barrett Katz, about how things were going in the crazy midwife world,” I say.

“Not at all. Paranoia aside, Ms. Ryuan, I simply—”

How many times do I have to interrupt before he stops smiling?

“Look, it’s no secret that our CEO has nothing but utter disrespect for the midwife practice, and I know that I am a midwife who particularly sets him off. He’s used to having people kiss his ass—”

“Now I must interrupt you, ma’am. Perhaps some people court him. I am not one of them. My lack of, as you say, ass kissing has not hurt me.”