Week Thirty-Two: The Safety Point
Isla woke on her thirty-second week to Mara singing happy birthday.
"It's not my birthday," Isla mumbled, still half-asleep.
"It's Sera's safety day. Thirty-two weeks. The doctor said if you made it to thirty-two weeks, her chances improve dramatically. So we're celebrating."
Mara had made pancakes. With whipped cream and strawberries. Far too elaborate for someone on bedrest.
"You didn't have to do this."
"Yes, I did. You've been on bedrest for six weeks. You haven't complained once—"
"I've complained constantly."
"You haven't given up. Haven't stopped working. Haven't fallen apart. You deserve pancakes." Mara settled the tray on Isla's lap. "Plus, I'm celebrating too. Because my niece is going to be okay. And my sister is a badass who survived six weeks of bedrest without losing her mind."
"I'm losing my mind a little."
"Only a little. That's impressive given the circumstances."
