Amber. The drive home was too quiet, broken only by the constant, hungry cries of our newborn daughter. I sat in the back seat with Cara, the home-care specialist the hospital had sent with us. She was gentle, professional, and kept glancing at me with quiet concern.She held the baby carefully while I stared out the window, trying to hold myself together.“I think you should breastfeed her now,” Cara said softly, her eyes flicking between me and the fussing infant. “It would be good for both of you… and maybe we can start thinking of a name for her too.”“She doesn’t have a name yet,” I answered, voice flat.“You can just call her Baby for now,” I added.“Why?” Cara asked gently.“I haven’t figured one out yet,” I murmured. “Baby will do for now.”Zeden’s voice suddenly cut through from the driver’s seat, low and rough. “Yulia.”I stiffened.“Her name is Yulia,” he said again, eyes fixed on the road ahead.“That’s not—” I started, ready to argue, but Cara interrupted smoothly.“
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