Olivia cradled the infant against her chest with a tenderness that felt almost alien. A soft smile bloomed on her lips without effort—as if the child's warmth had ignited a long-dormant spark within her.
Looking down, she saw her own features mirrored in the girl's delicate face. It was a sight that sent a sharp pang of bittersweet nostalgia through her heart.
She began to sway in a slow, rhythmic motion until the child's breathing evened out, fading into a deep, trusting silence. She was so submerged in the moment that the faint creak of the door barely registered.
Olivia didn't turn. Her world was narrowed down to the tiny life in her arms—to Ann. She assumed it was Keira; who else would dare enter her private sanctuary with such familiarity?
But when she finally glanced back, the breath died in her throat. Her heart gave a violent lurch. Her grip tightened instinctively around the baby, shielding her as if from a strike.
There she was.
