The other staff members exchanged tired looks.
Some shook their heads.
They were already sure she would fail.
But before Evelyn took another step, she stopped.
She closed her eyes.
Her lips moved quietly, barely making a sound.
“Lord,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Guard my steps.
Use me as your instrument.
I cannot do this alone.
She held the baby closer to her chest.
Her hands were warm, steady, gentle.
Tears filled her eyes, but she did not wipe them away.
The baby continued crying.
Loud, broken, desperate.
Evelyn did not panic.
Instead, she began to hum.
It was not a song anyone recognized.
It was soft and slow, like a mother calling her child home.
Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried something deeper than sound.
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