Day by day passed, year by year went by. It felt like only yesterday Liam and I had dinner in that apartment, with candles and the scent of lavender filling the room. But time moved quickly. Now, I was in my third year as a surgical resident. Many things had changed, many things had grown, and the most beautiful of all was Elena. Elena was now three years old, and at that age, the world felt like her stage. Every morning, before I left for the hospital, she would stand in front of the bedroom door holding her worn-out bunny doll and say loudly, “Mama works, I work too!” Then she would run to the little table in the living room, where Liam had made her a pretend doctor’s desk. There, she would examine her doll, put a toy bandage on its leg, and say in a tone imitating mine, “It’s okay, you’ll get better soon.” Every time I watched her, there was a tender feeling in my chest that I could never fully describe. Three years ago, I was still unsure whether I could be a mother and a docto
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