The machine beeped like a dying heartbeat—too slow, too faint. My son, barely two pounds, fought just to breathe behind the incubator glass. I counted the seconds between breaths, same way I’d counted years in my uncle’s cold house.\n\nI hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. Two shifts down, one more to go. The diner wouldn’t hold my spot forever. I kissed the glass gently, whispering promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.\n\nThen my phone buzzed—unknown number. A photo loaded. Me. Leaving the hospital.\n\nText read: He’s been looking for you. He knows.