When the reading was done, Elise smiled gently, “You’re healing well.” Olivia murmured a thank-you, clutching the baby close. Her shoulders stayed rigid, as if reassurance itself had become something dangerous to trust.
Later that day, the social worker stopped by. Elise lingered in the hallway, listening through the slightly ajar door. Olivia’s voice carried in fragments. It seemed steady but rehearsed. “Everything’s fine. Daniel’s the protective kind. He just worries I’ll overdo it.”