By morning, whispers travelled faster than gurneys.
“Is that her?"
“Shh—she'll hear."
“Too late. Everyone already did."
Emma kept her eyes on the floor tiles as a nurse wheeled her down the hall for discharge. The tiles were clean, countable. She counted.
At the station, Sophie signed off on the last line of a form and slid the clipboard away like a shield. “Med list printed. Follow-up in one week with OB, sooner if you have heavy bleeding. No lifting. No heroics." Her voice gentled. “Let people carry you, Emma."
“I'm getting good at it," Emma said.
A resident sidled up with an iPad and a look of someone trying not to look like someone. “Can I—um—"
“No," Sophie said without turning. “You cannot."
The resident held up both hands, retreating. “I was going to say sorry."
“Then say s
