The first time Emma woke up after surgery, she looked smaller than ever.
Her skin was pale against the white pillow, her hair damp with sweat. Tubes and wires curled across her chest like thin snakes. The steady beep of the monitor filled the small recovery room.
“Mommy?" Her voice was a whisper through the oxygen mask.
Emerie leaned in at once, blinking back fresh tears. “I'm here," she said. “I'm right here."
“Did… did they fix it?" Emma asked, one tiny hand twitching toward her chest.
Emerie covered the hand gently. “Yes," she said. “The doctor fixed your heart. You did so well."
Emma's eyes closed for a moment, then opened again, heavy but shining. “It hurts," she admitted.
“I know," Emerie said, brushing hair off her daughter's forehead. “It will hurt for a while. But the bad p
