Alive.
That was the first victory.
Tiny, furious, wrapped in a pink hospital blanket, she screamed as if she already knew the world owed her an apology. I named her Nora before Evan ever arrived.
He showed up carrying flowers from the hospital gift shop with Patricia trailing behind him in pearls.
“Mia,” he said, reaching toward my hand. “God, you scared us.”
I pulled away immediately.
His eyes flicked toward the nurse.
Patricia sighed dramatically. “She’s exhausted. And hormonal.”
I stared directly at Evan. “You left me bleeding in the snow.”
His expression hardened. “We didn’t know it was serious.”
Continue on the next page:
