The house was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the main hall.

We reached the small bedroom at the end of the wing.

I pushed the door open quietly, the hinges making no sound.

Lily lay in her crib, her small head resting on a pink blanket.

She was breathing softly, her tiny fingers curled into loose fists.

My heart ached as I looked at her innocent face.

Ethan stepped into the room, his large frame suddenly making the space feel very small.

He opened the testing kit with careful, quiet movements.

He handed me one of the plastic swabs.

“It is better if you do it,” Ethan whispered. “She knows your touch.”

I took the swab, my fingers shaking slightly against the plastic.

I leaned over the crib and gently slid the cotton tip into the side of Lily’s mouth.

She stirred, letting out a soft sigh, but did not wake.

I rubbed the swab against the inside of her cheek, counting to ten in my head.

I withdrew it and carefully placed it into the glass vial Ethan held open for me.