The case continued for several more months.
There were evaluations.
Conversations with doctors.
Financial assessments.
Every week, someone checked whether I was reasonable enough, healthy enough, and capable enough to be a mother.
At first, it humiliated me.
Then I began to look at it differently.
I kept a diary.
I wrote down Emilia’s feeding times, medical appointments, vaccinations, conversations with her pediatrician, and our walks in the park. Not because I needed to prove my love to anyone.
But because I wanted to make sure no one could ever say that I had acted without thinking.
Todor came from Ruse every week.
Sometimes he stayed for several days.
He wasn’t a young father.
His back hurt. He tired easily. Sometimes he fell asleep in the armchair while Emilia lay on his chest.
But he looked at her as if the world were beginning again.
One day, I found him talking quietly to her.
