Lorraine tested the order exactly once. Seven months after the trial, an unmarked envelope arrived at my mother’s house with a single photograph inside: Lorraine, standing outside the hospital where I work.

Priya filed the violation the same day. Lorraine’s probation officer came down on her, extended the term, and put her under close supervision. The message finally landed.

She receded into the isolated life she had built for herself, and there was no further contact.

Two years have passed since the night that kitchen nearly took my future.

Ivy is a fierce, brilliant toddler. She runs everywhere instead of walking, holds strong opinions about which shoes she’ll wear, and screams with joy more often than not.

I rebuilt my life a piece at a time. I took a nursing position at a good pediatric hospital in Chicago, close to my parents. I watch my daughter grow into a secure, joyful person, entirely untouched by what surrounded her arrival.