"Hello there, baby," Amara said softly. "Are you hungry?"
The baby stared up at her with that wide, bottomless attention that newborns gave to everything and nothing at once.
Amara smiled down at her and held the smile carefully, the way you hold something that might break if you press too hard. Behind her eyes, something was gathering tears that had not decided yet what they were.
Joy and fear and the particular exhaustion of hoping for so long lived very close together inside her chest, and she had made a quiet agreement with herself that whatever they were, they would wait. They would come when the results came. Not before.
She settled into the chair in the private room and began to feed her.
The baby latched without fuss, without complaint, without a single sound of protest. She simply accepted what was offered and went about the business of it with a focused, unhurried calm that seemed to belong to someone much older.
