Emily hummed to herself as she filled out the paperwork, scribbling her name and date of birth. “It’s exciting, don’t you think? Like I’m going to learn a secret map of myself.” Clara forced a smile, though her chest felt as though it were splintering. “Yes, sweetheart,” she said softly. “A secret map.”
That night, long after Emily had gone to bed, Clara sat at the kitchen table staring at the empty swab wrapper. She turned it over in her hands, her mind circling the same fear: that one envelope in the mail could undo everything she had built, every sacrifice she had made.