Outside, the air felt sharp and clean, like waking after a long illness. She strapped the baby into the car seat and sat behind the wheel, staring into the rearview mirror. Her reflection looked different, tired, yes, but steady. For the first time in weeks, she knew exactly what she had to do.
When she finally reached home, she laid her daughter gently in the crib and stood in the quiet for a long time. The house was still, almost peaceful. Then she picked up her phone. Her hands were trembling, but her voice was steady when he answered. “James,” she said. He hesitated. “Emily.” “They mixed up the babies,” she said. “The one we brought home wasn’t ours.”