جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 6

Ava’s POVThe pain tore through me again, sharp and merciless. I clutched the sheets, sweat dripping down my forehead. Isa’s hand gripped mine tight, her lips pressed together as though she could take my pain if she held on hard enough.“Push, Ava,” Dr. Miranda ordered, her voice clipped and professional. “You’re almost there.”I cried out, pushing with everything I had left. The room blurred, white walls and harsh lights pressing in on me. A sudden cry pierced the air, thin and fragile but alive.“It’s a girl,” Dr. Miranda said. She lifted the tiny infant, her gloved hands steady.I sobbed, not from relief, but from something deeper something I couldn’t explain. My chest swelled with a strange mix of wonder and grief. She was so small, so perfect. My baby. And yet… not mine.The nurse wrapped the newborn in a blanket, the faint cries filling the sterile air. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Isa whispered, “She’s beautiful.”But then Dr. Miranda’s face changed. A flicker of alarm. Her ey

Ava’s POVFive years had passed, but New York still felt like it wanted to swallow me whole.The skyline towered above as the cab turned down Flatbush Avenue, the glass and steel throwing back the morning sun. Damien’s small hand was wrapped around mine, his fingers sticky from the muffin Isa had bought him on the way.“Mom,” he said, mouth full. “Are there parks here?”“Of course,” I answered, forcing a smile. “Bigger than the one we had in Montana.”His eyes lit up. “With swings?”“Yes, with swings.”Isa chuckled beside me, clutching her bag. “Don’t fill his head with fairy tales. You need to focus. It’s only an interview, Ava. Nothing more.”I nodded, though my stomach twisted. “I know. But it’s the start we need.”The cab pulled to a stop in front of a tall glass building. I stared up at it, nerves crawling under my skin.Isa touched my arm. “We’ll wait at the café across the street. Take your time.”I kissed Damien’s forehead. “Be good for Grandma.”“I will,” he said, swinging hi

The sun was bright when Damien and I reached the park. He held my hand until we stepped onto the grass, then he let go and ran ahead, full of energy. His laugh carried through the air as he darted toward the swings, then the slide, and then the sandbox. I kept my eyes on him, sitting down on a bench with my bag beside me.“Stay where I can see you,” I called out.“Okay, Mom,” he shouted back, already digging into the sand with his small hands.I smiled faintly, though a tightness remained in my chest. Saturdays in the park had become our small escape. No questions, no worries, just the two of us. Or at least that was how I wanted it to be.Damien paused suddenly. His eyes focused on something across the sandbox. I followed his gaze. A little girl, about his age, knelt on the other side, carefully shaping a small sandcastle with a plastic bucket. She had a crown of dark hair tied back with a ribbon, her face serious and determined as she worked. Damien tilted his head, then stood up an