The following morning, the situation had escalated.
The mother was examined but remained unresponsive.
Doctors tried to coax any sign of awareness from her—nothing.
The little girl was moved to a separate room.
Social services arrived, their presence adding a layer of formality to an already tense atmosphere.
They questioned her with gentle insistence, trying to unravel the mystery of her arrival.
All the while, I could sense the power imbalance.
The hospital staff had authority, process, and rules on their side.
The girl had only her quiet determination.
In a brief moment alone, I offered her a cup of warm milk.
Continue on the next page:
