The little electronic sounds of the monitors, the hallway noise beyond the door — all of it seemed to fall away under the weight of what he’d said.

I blinked at him, my body still trembling under the thin sheet.

“What did you say?”

He wasn’t looking at me.

His eyes stayed on the bundle in his arms, but there was no love in the looking.

He was examining our son the way you’d examine a delivery that came in wrong.