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It was quick, almost clumsy — the kind of misstep any child might make. But she didn’t recover the way she usually did. Instead, she paused, her small body swaying slightly, her balance uncertain. Her eyes, once bright and focused, seemed distant, as if she were trying to find something just out of reach.
She stood up immediately.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she called, her voice calm but edged with concern. “Are you okay?”
The younger girl didn’t answer right away. She blinked slowly, as if trying to clear her vision, then looked toward her mother with a faint, confused expression. It wasn’t like her. Not at all.
At the same time, the coughing grew worse.
Emma turned back to her older daughter, who had now stopped swinging entirely. She was gripping the chains tightly, her shoulders tense. Another cough escaped her, deeper this time, followed by a sharp inhale that didn’t sound quite right.
Not smooth. Not easy.
