“Not at all,” the doctor said, reassuring but brief. “She’s perfectly healthy.” When he left, silence settled between them again. Emily studied her daughter’s tiny face, searching for something familiar, something that made sense. James stood by the window, staring out at the rain.
That night, after the ward lights dimmed and the hallway fell silent, Emily woke to find him standing by the crib again, unmoving in the dark. “James?” she whispered. He turned slowly, startled. “Go back to sleep,” he said. His voice was soft but distant, heavy with something he couldn’t yet admit.