Her little arms trembled slightly, but her smile was so wide I thought her cheeks might crack. She looked at the bundle in her lap — at the tiny pink face wrapped snugly in a yellow blanket — like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Her bright red suspenders clashed horribly with the blanket, but she didn’t care. She was proud — proud to finally be the “big sister.”
I leaned back against the hospital pillows, exhausted and aching in every part of my body. Four years with just Lina had made our world feel small and perfect. She had kissed my swollen belly every night and asked the same question every morning: “Is she here yet, Mommy?”
And now, she was.
Maybe, I thought, things will be even more perfect.
Lina leaned closer, her nose almost brushing her sister’s tiny one. Then, with a softness that didn’t match her usual loud energy, she whispered, “I have someone to keep secrets with now.”
I blinked. “Secrets?”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving the baby. “Like the ones I keep from Daddy.”
