I didn’t immediately understand what was happening. Rachel had gone pale, Jason stepped back, as if before him was not a newborn miracle, but something foreign.

“Why is she… dark?” — whispered my sister, avoiding my gaze.
“Because nature does not conform to your expectations,” replied the doctor, glancing at me with confusion.

I held the little girl in my arms — warm, tiny, alive. She weakly gripped my finger, and inside me everything turned at the realization: for them it was a mistake, for me — life.

“Rachel, this is your daughter,” I whispered, but she only shook her head.
“Jason wanted a son…”

He turned away, muttering quietly: “We can’t take her.”

The world froze. Only the child’s quiet breathing reminded that life goes on.

And then I realized: maybe I wasn’t just carrying someone else’s child — I was carrying a chance. A chance to prove that motherhood is not biology, but heart.

I held the little one close to my chest and whispered:
“Don’t be afraid, little one. Even if the whole world rejects you — I will never let you go.”