The appointment was with the center's board chair and human-resources adviser. I carried a folder of notes and expected my offer to disappear politely. Instead, they proposed that I begin immediately, train a temporary coordinator, take available leave, and return on a phased schedule. The salary stayed the same. I asked every uncomfortable question I could think of. Their answers were not perfect, but they were written down. I signed after Ms. Alvarez reviewed the terms.

Dominic began attending counseling remotely. At first, he spoke about the life he had lost: exam study, travel, quiet mornings. I listened until the counselor asked what he imagined I had lost. He could not answer. Over several sessions, he stopped arguing that fear had forced his behavior. He agreed to a paternity acknowledgment after birth, temporary support, and supervised early visits while we assessed reliability. I did not reward improvement with immediate trust. Improvement was simply the next requirement.

I moved into a smaller apartment near the arts center when the lease ended. Saira organized friends by useful tasks instead of vague offers. One person assembled a crib, another drove me to appointments, and Elaine stocked my freezer only after asking what I ate. I kept the original clinic card in a drawer, not as a symbol of a path rejected, but as proof of how easily care can become control when the patient disappears from the sentence.

Labor began during an evening glaze class. I felt the first strong contraction while demonstrating how to center clay, and the bowl collapsed under my hands. Saira drove me to the hospital with the carefully packed bag I had mocked for weeks. At admissions, a clerk asked for my support person. I gave Saira's name. Then she asked whether anyone else should be notified. Before I could answer, my phone lit up with a message from Dominic: I am downstairs, and I will follow whatever you decide.