“Emily, they just need to check him to make sure he’s healthy,” he explained softly. “If he’s okay, you’ll feel better too. Right?”
She studied him for a long moment, as if measuring every word.
Something in his tone must have sounded different.
Finally, she allowed the nurse to examine the baby, but she stood close the entire time, watching every movement.
The diagnosis came quickly.
Mild dehydration. Some malnutrition.
But nothing permanent.
A small miracle.
Later, when the ambulance drove away carrying the mother’s body, silence settled heavily over the abandoned building.
“You’ll both need to go to a temporary center tonight,” the social worker explained. “Tomorrow we’ll figure out what happens next.”
Emily stiffened again.
Andrew felt an unfamiliar sensation rising inside him.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For them.
“Are there any relatives?” he asked.
“We’re checking records,” the woman replied. “But so far, nothing.”
Andrew looked at Emily, who was watching the ambulance disappear down the road.
That night he couldn’t sleep.
Again and again he saw the same image: a small girl holding a baby as if he were the only reason she kept breathing.
The next morning he called his lawyer.