Mark nodded, his expression serious as he put a comforting hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Stay here with your mom, okay? I’ll talk to the nurses,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. But the worry in his eyes betrayed him.
As Mark left the room, I looked back at the picture on Emily’s phone and then at the baby in my arms. It was impossible to imagine that this little soul might not be my own flesh and blood. Every maternal instinct I had screamed to protect her, to love her. But the doubt gnawed at me, twisting my insides with dread.
Emily sat down beside me, her small hands clutching her phone tightly. “What if they can’t fix it, Mom?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if we take home the wrong baby?”
