For a moment, Rosa felt as if the world had tilted. The laughter coming from behind that door, the soft cooing voices and celebratory chatter, all of it seemed suddenly cruel. She tightened her grip on the tote, nodded once, and straightened her spine.
“I see,” she said calmly. “Then I will not disturb her.”
Jonathan looked relieved and ashamed all at once. “Thank you for understanding, Mom.”
Rosa did not trust herself to say anything else. She turned and walked back the way she had come, her footsteps steady, her expression composed, though something deep inside her cracked and went silent. She boarded the return bus an hour later and rode home without speaking to anyone, the blanket still untouched in her lap.
Three days passed.
On a gray afternoon, as rain streaked down the kitchen window of her apartment, the phone rang. Rosa answered, expecting a telemarketer. Instead, a brisk voice introduced herself as a representative from the hospital billing office.