Two days.
It doesn’t sound like much.
Two days is nothing compared to the weeks I’ve already spent sitting beside Rosalie’s bed, waiting for a flicker of movement, a breath that feels stronger, a sign that she’s coming back to me.
But something about these two days… feels wrong.
I don’t notice it at first. That’s the worst part.
I don’t notice.
“She’s sleeping a lot,” Mara says when I stop by that first evening.
Posy is in her cradle, wrapped neatly, her tiny face turned slightly to the side. Too still. But I don’t question it.
“She’s been through a lot,” Mara adds gently. “It’s normal.”
I nod. Of course it is. She fought to live. Her body is still recovering.
“She feeds well?” I ask.
Mara smiles. “Of course.”
That word again. Of course. Like there’s nothing to worry about. Lik
