She hugged me so hard I nearly lost my balance, both of us laughing through tears neither of us bothered wiping away.
The pregnancy went more smoothly than anyone expected. Paige showed up to every single appointment. She’d rest both hands on my belly whenever the baby moved and get teary against my shoulder every time.
I remember one appointment in particular, the twenty-week anatomy scan, both of us crowded around the small screen while the technician pointed out fingers, toes, a tiny beating heart that made Paige grip my hand so hard it left marks.
“That’s our miracle,” she said.
I believed her completely.
Then the baby arrived, seven pounds, four ounces, a detail I’ll never forget no matter whose daughter she eventually turned out to be.
Labor had gone faster than anyone expected, barely four hours from the first real contraction to the moment the doctor placed her, screaming and furious at the whole ordeal, briefly against my chest before the nurses took over.
A small, warm, perfect little girl.
When Paige and Desmond walked into the recovery room at Bellmont General, I expected them to reach straight for her.
They didn’t.
Desmond stepped closer, looked down slowly into the blanket, and his face drained of color. Paige’s smile vanished so fast it frightened me.
The room went oddly silent except for the baby’s small, soft sounds.
“Paige?” I whispered.
She stepped back like the baby had scalded her, her hands coming up in front of her chest like she needed a barrier between herself and the small bundle I was holding.
Desmond shook his head slowly.
“No. No, this is wrong. This is completely wrong.”
My arms pulled the baby in tighter, some animal instinct taking over before my mind had even caught up to what was happening.
“What’s wrong? Tell me right now.”
Paige’s voice came out cracked.
