At first, they feared Luciana had collapsed or suffered some terrible medical emergency, yet as they gathered closer, their frantic urgency dissolved into stunned silence. Luciana lay curled against her father’s chest, her small arms wrapped tightly around him as if seeking comfort rather than causing alarm.
Then someone whispered words that froze every breath in the room.
“Look at his hand.”
Benjamin’s hand rested gently against Luciana’s back, positioned with an unsettling naturalness that defied immediate explanation. It was not rigid, not awkwardly displaced, but curved softly as though embracing her.
“She must have moved it,” murmured one voice, trembling with uncertainty.
“That position makes no sense at all,” replied another, barely audible.
One of the men stepped forward instinctively to lift the child, yet Evelyn raised a trembling hand.
“Wait,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers. “Something unusual is happening here.”