The NICU was calm in a way that felt deliberate, not quiet exactly, but controlled, as though every sound had learned where it belonged and stayed there out of respect. Machines hummed softly. Footsteps moved with purpose. Voices remained low, not hushed, but careful, as if volume itself understood the gravity of the space.
Willow stood beside Zane near the foot of Zana's bassinet while the neonatologist reviewed the chart with practiced precision, her tone steady and unhurried.
"She has maintained her temperature outside the incubator for over forty eight hours," the doctor said, scanning the page before looking up. "She is feeding orally without desaturation. Oxygen levels remain stable. Weight gain has been consistent."
Willow listened with her hands clasped tightly together, fingers interlaced not from fear but from containment, as if letting them separate might release something too large to manage.
