PART 3
I pressed both hands against my mouth and tried not to collapse.
Behind me, I heard Daniel.
“Emily.”
I didn’t turn around.
“Emily, please.”
I stared through the glass.
“Don’t.”
“Listen to me.”
“No.”
“I know you’re scared.”
I finally turned.
Daniel looked nothing like the man I’d married three years earlier.
His hair was disheveled. His face was pale. His eyes were red.
But what bothered me most was that he wasn’t looking at Lily.
He was looking at me.
“You need to tell the police it was an accident,” he said quietly.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“That’s what happened.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“You weren’t there.”
“I came immediately.”
“After she fell.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t see what happened.”
His jaw tightened.
“My mother said—”
“Your mother.”
I looked past him.
Patricia was sitting several chairs away.
She wasn’t crying.
She wasn’t praying.
She wasn’t asking about her granddaughter.
She was staring at the floor.
When she noticed me looking at her, she raised her eyes.
For the first time since Lily had fallen, I saw fear in them.
Not fear for Lily.
Fear of what might happen to her.
And that frightened me more than anything.
A police officer entered the waiting area.
“Emily Miller?”
I stepped forward.
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Harris. My partner is speaking with hospital security. We’d like to hear what happened.”
Daniel immediately moved closer.
“I was asleep when—”
The officer held up a hand.
“Sir, I’ll speak with you shortly. Right now, I’d like to speak with Mrs. Miller privately.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Emily…”
I didn’t answer.
I followed Officer Harris several steps away.
He took out a small notebook.
“Start from the beginning.”
I swallowed.
“It was around midnight.”
“Approximately?”
“Maybe 12:15. I wasn’t looking at the clock.”
“Okay.”
“I was holding Lily in the hallway.”
“Why?”
“She was crying.”
“Was anyone else awake?”
“My mother-in-law.”
“Patricia Miller?”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
I closed my eyes.
The memory came back instantly.
Patricia’s face.
Her voice.
The sudden movement.
My arms tightening around Lily.
My foot sliding.
That horrible sensation of losing control.
“She told me to shut the baby up or get out of the house.”
Officer Harris wrote something down.
“Then?”
“She came toward me.”
“How close?”
“I don’t know. Very close.”
“Did she strike you?”
“I felt something against me.”
“What exactly?”
“I can’t say for certain.”
He looked up.
“That’s okay. Tell me what you know, not what you think.”
I nodded.
“I lost my balance.”
“And the baby fell?”
“Yes.”
“From approximately what height?”
“I was holding her against my chest. Maybe three or four feet.”
Officer Harris’s expression remained neutral.
“What happened immediately afterward?”
“I screamed. I picked her up. She wasn’t responding normally.”
“Did you call 911?”
“I called while driving to the hospital.”
“You drove yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Was your husband with you?”
“No.”
“Where was he?”
“At the house.”
Officer Harris nodded.
“Did your mother-in-law come with you?”
“No.”
“She stayed at the house?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I looked toward Patricia.
“I don’t know.”
Officer Harris followed my gaze.
“Has there been conflict between you and your mother-in-law before tonight?”
I hesitated.
That was the question I had spent three years avoiding.
“Yes.”
“How serious?”
I looked down at my hands.
“Serious enough that I stopped feeling safe around her.”
Daniel suddenly spoke from behind us.
“That isn’t true.”
Officer Harris turned.
“Sir, please give us a moment.”
Daniel stepped back.
I looked at the officer.
“She has been angry with me since Lily was born.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted Daniel and me to live differently. She wanted to control how we raised Lily.”
“Can you give me an example?”
I thought of all the little things.
The comments.
The criticism.
The doors opening without knocking.
The way Patricia would take Lily from my arms without asking.
The way she would tell me I was holding her wrong.
The way she would tell me newborns didn’t need to be fed so often.
The way she had once stood over Lily’s crib and said, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
But there was something else.
Something I’d never told Daniel.
“Three nights ago,” I said, “Patricia told me that if I couldn’t handle being a mother, I should leave Lily with her.”
Officer Harris stopped writing.
“Those were her exact words?”
“Almost.”
“Did anyone hear?”
“Daniel.”
Daniel looked away.
I watched him.
That hurt more than I expected.
Because I remembered that night.
Patricia had said it in the kitchen.
Daniel had been standing beside the refrigerator.
I had waited for him to defend me.
Instead, he had said, “Mom’s just frustrated.”
I hadn’t forgotten.
Apparently, neither had he.
A door opened behind us.
Dr. Blake stepped out.
My entire body went cold.
I rushed toward him.
“Doctor?”
He removed his gloves.
“She’s still critical.”
I grabbed the edge of a chair.
“But she’s alive?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Can I see her?”
“Not yet.”
“Please.”
“We’re still stabilizing her.”
“What kind of injury does she have?”
He paused.
“We’re concerned about a significant head injury. We’re doing additional imaging and monitoring her closely.”
My stomach twisted.
“Will she be okay?”
“I don’t want to give you an answer I can’t guarantee.”
I felt tears spill down my face.
“But she’s three weeks old.”
“I know.”
“She was fine this morning.”
“I understand.”
“She was smiling.”
Dr. Blake’s expression softened.
“We’re going to do everything we can.”
He disappeared back through the doors.
I stood there shaking.
Then I heard Patricia.
“Emily.”
I turned.
She was standing several feet away.
“Don’t make this worse.”
I stared at her.
“Worse?”
“It was an accident.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I didn’t hurt her.”
“You came at me.”
“I told you to leave the house.”
“You stepped toward me.”
“I was angry.”
“You scared me.”
She crossed her arms.
“I barely touched you.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Did she touch me?”
He hesitated.
Patricia looked at him.
“Daniel.”
That one word changed his expression.
He looked trapped between us.
I waited.
“Daniel?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I didn’t see it.”
Patricia’s face hardened.
“Your wife is blaming me because she dropped the baby.”
I felt something inside me break.
Not because she said it.
Because Daniel didn’t immediately deny it.
I walked toward him.
“Did you hear what she said?”
“I heard.”
“She told me to shut Lily up.”
“I know.”
“She came toward me.”
“I wasn’t there.”
“She caused me to lose my balance.”
“You don’t know that.”
The words hit me like another fall.
I stared at him.
“You’re already choosing her.”
“I’m not choosing anyone.”
“You are.”
“Emily, you’re exhausted.”
There it was.
The same sentence.
The same excuse.
You’re exhausted.
You’re emotional.
You just had a baby.
You don’t remember correctly.
I had heard variations of those words for months.
But tonight they sounded different.
Because my daughter was behind a hospital door fighting for her life.
And my husband was standing in front of me asking me to doubt myself.
I stepped closer.
“Do you remember what you told me when Lily was born?”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“You said nobody would ever hurt us.”
“I meant that.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You meant nobody would hurt us unless it was inconvenient to admit who did it.”
His face changed.
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?”
My voice cracked.
“Look at me, Daniel.”
He did.
“Your daughter is in critical condition.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
“And you’re worried about what your mother will say.”
“I’m worried about everything!”
“No.”
I pointed toward the emergency-room doors.
“I’m worried about Lily.”
He looked down.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then two detectives entered the waiting area.
One was a woman with dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
The other was a tall man carrying a folder.
The woman approached Officer Harris.
“Detective Morales.”
She looked at me.
“Mrs. Miller?”
“Yes.”
“Can we speak privately?”
I nodded.
As we walked away, I heard Patricia say my name.
“Emily.”
I didn’t turn around.
Detective Morales led me into a small consultation room.
She closed the door.
“Before we continue, I want to explain something.”
I sat down.
“Okay.”
“We’re not here to decide tonight exactly what happened. We’re here to establish the facts.”
I nodded.
“We’ll speak with everyone separately.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll also request any available hospital documentation, photographs of injuries, and other relevant evidence.”
My hands tightened.
“Will you take Lily away from me?”
“No.”
I looked up sharply.
“Your daughter is receiving medical care. Our investigation is separate from her treatment.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
She sat across from me.
“Now I need you to tell me about your relationship with Patricia.”
I did.
Everything.
Not just tonight.
The months before Lily was born.
The constant criticism.
The arguments.
The way Patricia had insisted on staying with us after Lily’s birth.
The way Daniel had agreed.
The way Patricia had slowly taken over the house.
And then I told her something I’d never told anyone.
“Two weeks ago, Patricia told me Lily would be better off without me.”
Detective Morales looked up.
“Exact words?”
“She said, ‘A child needs a real mother.’”
“What did she mean?”
“I asked her what she meant.”
“And?”
“She said, ‘You’ll understand soon.’”
Detective Morales wrote it down.
“Did you interpret that as a threat?”
“At the time, no.”
“And now?”
I looked toward the closed door.
“Now I don’t know what to think.”
Detective Morales nodded.
“Did Patricia ever threaten you physically?”
“No.”
“Did she ever push you before tonight?”
“No.”
“Did your husband witness previous arguments?”
“Yes.”
“Did he defend you?”
I hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Mostly he told us both to calm down.”
Detective Morales leaned back.
“Mrs. Miller, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“People sometimes remember events differently after a traumatic incident. That’s why we’re going to compare statements, physical evidence, medical findings, and witness accounts.”
I nodded.
“I’m not asking you to exaggerate anything.”
“I won’t.”
“Even if you think it helps your case.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
She stood.
“Then we’re going to take this one step at a time.”
When I left the room, I saw Daniel standing alone.
Patricia was gone.
“Where is my mother?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He looked toward the entrance.
“She left.”
I stared at him.
“She left?”
“She said she needed air.”
I almost laughed.
My daughter was fighting for her life.
And Patricia needed air.
Then my phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice spoke.
“Mrs. Miller?”
“Yes?”
“This is the neonatal intensive care unit.”
My heart stopped.
“Lily?”
“She has been transferred to the NICU.”
“Is she worse?”
There was a pause.
“She remains in critical condition.”
I closed my eyes.
“Can I see her?”
