The room was neat, as usual, with a few books scattered on Stacey’s desk and clothes folded on her chair. Brenda glanced around, the crying still audible but with no clear source. She frowned, stepping further in. It sounded close now, almost as if it were coming from the window seat.
Brenda moved toward the window seat, her chest tightening as the sound grew louder with each step. Her hands trembled as she began pulling away the cushions and stuffed toys stacked neatly on the seat. And then she froze. Nestled beneath the pile was a baby—a real, living baby.