Chapter 4 - MORNING LIGHT AND COLD REALIZATIONS
The dawn came pale and gray through the plantation blinds of the living room, finding Marco still sitting upright on the couch with his laptop resting on his knees, the security video paused on the image of my hand reaching blindly for the bassinet leg. When I woke up at 5:00 a.m. from a shallow, pain-broken sleep with Sophia resting softly against my chest, I found him staring at me with an expression I had never seen on his face before—not annoyance, not defensiveness, but a hollow, sickening shock.
“Isabel,” he whispered, his voice cracking across the quiet room. “I didn’t... I didn’t see you fall like that.” I didn't yell. I didn't sigh. I adjusted Sophia in my arms with deliberate, exhausted precision and looked straight into his eyes. “You didn't want to see, Marco. There’s a difference.” He reached out a hand toward my arm, but I pulled back instinctively, stepping around him toward the kitchen. He followed me, stammering apologies, offering to make coffee, asking if I wanted him to call Dr. Eng immediately. The sudden pivot from casual cruelty to frantic panic didn't feel like redemption; it felt like a man terrified that his negligence was about to be exposed to the world.
