The Instinctual Jury
Leigh sat on the edge of the nursery chair, the rhythmic breathing of her twins the only sound in the room. Her rational mind, the part of her that craved peace, tried to construct a bridge of excuses. Maybe it’s a localized virus? A shared allergy from a common detergent? But the bridge collapsed under the weight of the timing. Derek returns from a “work trip” with a rare rash; Kelsey develops the same rare rash forty-eight hours later.
In the world of motherhood, where Leigh’s instincts were currently tuned to the frequency of survival, there were no coincidences of this magnitude. The unease that had been a dull ache in her stomach now sharpened into a cold, piercing certainty. The “safe distance” she had kept from Derek was no longer just about protecting her babies from a virus—it was about protecting herself from a lie.
