Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us could.
Because that single sentence had already rewritten everything. Both babies survived.
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Nora continued.
"Olivia's delivery happened shortly afterward."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Her baby didn't survive."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Olivia gasped.
I reached for her hand instinctively.
For several seconds, she simply stared at Nora. Then she shook her head.
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"No."
Nora nodded sadly.
"I'm sorry."
The room felt impossibly still.
Finally, Olivia found her voice.
"If my daughter died... then whose child did I take home?"
Nora began crying.
And suddenly I knew.
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I knew before she answered.
Because there was only one possibility.
"You took mine."
The silence afterward was unbearable.
Olivia lowered her head and sobbed.
I sat frozen.
Part of me wanted to scream. The other wanted to collapse.
Instead, I listened.
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Because somehow the story was still getting worse.
