Milo's arms tighten around her.
She thinks ruefully that he always knows when she's awake.
"We'll give it to our daughter," he says softly. He strokes her hair.
She admits, "I miss her."
"She's still alive."
Kida turns to face him, to brush away the stubborn hairs that fall across eyes that barely see her without his glasses.
"In here." He touches her necklace. "Here." He touches the skin that covers her beating heart. "And here." His hand slides down to rest gently on her swollen belly.
She glances toward the tiny bracelet as Milo holds her tighter. Memory blends with hope.
"Yes," Kida says. "We'll give it to our daughter."