Henderson's POV
I watch as the woman on the examination table breathes steadily while my mother prepares her surgical instruments. This is my coming-of-age birthday, and I asked for only one gift. The chance to assist in an actual surgery.
Most girls my age would want jewelry or a party dress. I wanted to hold a scalpel.
My mother glances at me with approval as I hand her the tools she needs. We have worked together countless times before, but today feels different. Today I am not just observing. I am participating.
"A cesarean section requires precision," she explains, her voice calm and professional. "Cut too shallow and you will need multiple incisions. Cut too deep and you risk harming the baby. The placement must be exact."
She indicates the spot on Simona's abdomen where I should make the incision. Simona has been like family to me since childhood. This is her fourth pregnancy with her mate Maurice, an unexpected blessing arriving many years after their last child.
