The hospital corridor hummed with a quiet buzz. James leaned against the wall near the waiting room, phone pressed to his ear. “I’ll call you back,” he murmured, distracted by the nurse who motioned for him. “Susy’s resting,” she said. “Your daughter’s inside. Anna’s meeting her now.”
He stepped into the delivery room moments later, greeted by the sight of Anna standing on a stool by the crib. She turned to him, her little face scrunched in confusion. “Daddy,” she said, her voice trembling, “that’s not my sister.” James froze, his heart skipping a beat.
He laughed nervously, stepping closer to the crib. The baby was pale, her hair a vivid shade of copper. He blinked, trying to reconcile the image with the child he’d imagined. Something gnawed at him—a whisper of doubt he quickly pushed aside. It didn’t mean anything. Did it?