She swallowed.
“I was afraid for you.”
“Maybe at first.”
“And I’m still afraid!”
“Of what?”
She looked at Emilia.
“That you won’t be able to do it. That you’ll get sick. That you’ll die. That this girl will be left without a mother.”
Her words hurt me.
Not because they weren’t possible.
But because they were the most human words she had spoken since the lawsuit began.
I looked at the baby.
Little Emilia was sleeping peacefully.
Yes, I could die.
I could become sick.
I might not be there for her as long as I wanted.
But no parent has a guarantee.
Young parents die.
Healthy parents become sick.
Life is not a contract.
“I’m afraid too,” I said quietly. “Every day. But I didn’t want this child because I believe I’ll live forever. I wanted her because I realized I can still love. And because I have the ability to give her a home, care, and security.”
