Maybe it was instinct, or guilt—the kind that keeps you past your shift, staring at a stranger because you are afraid of what she’ll face when you leave. Elise pulled up a chair beside her bed and stayed, listening to the faint hum of the monitors, waiting for her to speak, if she could and wanted to.
Morning came slowly, bleeding gold through the blinds. The ward was quieter now, the machines steady, and the world calmer. Olivia sat upright, cradling her baby with a look that wasn’t quite wonder, but not rejection either. “Thank you,” she murmured when she caught the nurse watching, her voice small but steady.