Mark went to work and found he could not listen to anyone discuss quarterly projections. He sat in meetings while thinking about oxygen levels and feeding tubes. He opened emails and saw instead Emily’s handwriting: I can’t keep teaching him how to choose us.
He stopped calling Madison.
Madison did not stop calling him.
At first, she left soft messages.
I’m worried about you.
Then sharper ones.
You’re punishing me for something we both wanted.
Then one that made him sit very still.
Emily may not be as innocent as you think.
He replayed that message three times.
Then deleted it.
But Madison had planted a small unease, and unease was a seed that grew best in silence.
On the twelfth day after the birth, Mark received a second photograph.
This time, it showed Grace’s hand.
Just her hand.
Tiny fingers curled around Emily’s index finger.
