CHAPTER 35 —

Morning came like a reluctant witness: slow, a little apologetic, and fashionably late. Nicole woke before dawn with the kind of knot in her ribs that meant the day would be long. The hospital window still held the night’s haze; streetlights blinked like a city that had finally decided to care. She let her hand rest on the baby — three soft taps answered her like a private Morse — and felt, absurdly, steadied. The small life inside her had become the truest compass. ...