My phone buzzed again.It had been going off like that for the past ten minutes. Soft, insistent vibrations against my hip, each one a ripple in the still waters of Aunt Elena’s very long, very detailed baby-bathing tutorial.She was standing over the bath, her sleeves rolled up, a calm, patient smile on her face as she cradled the baby in her arms for the third demonstration that afternoon. Not a drop of water splashed. Everything about her was precise, delicate, practiced.“And always keep your hand under the neck,” she said gently, as though I hadn’t already memorized every movement. “They’re so small, you see? You have to make them feel safe.”“I see,” I murmured, though my mind was far from here. The phone buzzed again. I didn’t need to look at it. I already knew who it was. Sylvester. His calls were never this persistent. If he was calling this much, something was wrong.Still, I couldn’t just step away. Not from Aunt Elena. She wasn’t the kind of woman you interrupted,
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