Chapter 7 - The First Touch
Two weeks after the incident, Khloe was wheeled into the NICU in a wheelchair, pushed gently by Harrison.
The room was soft and quiet, filled with the gentle, rhythmic beep of infant monitors.
Dr. Vance guided them to a small, private bay where incubator #4 sat under a warm yellow light.
Inside lay baby Maya. She had gained four ounces, her tiny pink hands flexing open and closed, her dark hair soft as silk against her small head. The breathing tube had been removed the day before, replaced by a tiny nasal cannula.
Khloe reached her hands into the incubator gloves, tears streaming silently down her cheeks as her pointer finger was enveloped by Maya’s tiny, warm hand.
"Hi, my sweet girl," Khloe whispered, her voice overflowing with pure motherly devotion. "Hi, Maya. Mommy's here."
Harrison stood behind the wheelchair, leaning over to rest his hand gently on Khloe's shoulder.
For the first time in two weeks, the tight, agonizing knot in Harrison’s chest loosened slightly.
"She looks like you, Khloe," Harrison murmured softly. "She has your stubborn jaw."
Khloe let out a watery laugh, looking up at her brother. "She’s going to need that stubbornness, Harry. Look who her uncle is."
"I will give her the world," Harrison promised softly, looking at the tiny girl holding her mother's finger. "Anything she ever needs, anything you ever need, it’s yours."
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"I don't need the world, Harry," Khloe said, her voice turning quiet and serious as she looked at her brother. "I just want justice. I want to make sure Richard never gets near this baby."
"He won't," Harrison assured her, his gray eyes shining with iron certainty. "He will be behind bars before she takes her first steps."
