The delivery room at Green Hearts Hospital felt like it existed outside of time—sealed inside a fragile, glowing bubble where nothing ugly could enter. Soft afternoon sunlight slipped through the half-drawn blinds in warm golden ribbons, painting the pale blue walls and polished floor in gentle strokes. The steady beep… beep… beep of the monitors blended with the faint scent of antiseptic and the sweeter perfume of lilies resting on the windowsill, creating a strange harmony—clinical and miraculous all at once.
Tiny Brielle Vexley slept in Eliana's arms, oblivious to the world she had just entered. Her chest rose and fell beneath the soft white blanket in delicate, determined breaths, each one a quiet promise. Her fingers curled into the air like they were holding invisible threads, secrets only she understood. Every now and then, her lips twitched, as if she were already dreaming of somewhere far kinder than the world waiting outside those walls.
