Her hands were shaking as she hurried to my bedside and slipped a folded piece of paper into my palm.
“Please… just read it,” she whispered.
The moment I unfolded the note, the warmth drained from my body.
I grabbed her hand immediately.
And without saying another word, we started planning how to leave.
The room smelled of antiseptic and fresh linens. My newborn son slept peacefully in the bassinet beside me, his tiny chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm. Everything about the moment should have felt calm, even joyful.
The nurses had been kind. The delivery had gone smoothly. My husband, Daniel, had stepped out earlier to finish paperwork at the front desk.
I thought I was alone, finally getting a chance to rest.
Then Lily burst into the room like a storm.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide with panic.
“Mom, we can’t stay here,” she insisted. “We have to go.”
I struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through my abdomen.
“Slow down,” I said. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
Lily swallowed hard.
“I saw something… and someone gave me this.”
She pointed to the paper in my hand.
I unfolded it slowly.