I snapped this photo because it looked perfect—her grin, his pout, both of them in matching softness. But I didn’t notice what was happening off-frame until it was too late.
Amira had been obsessed with her new baby brother since we brought him home. Constant singing, wanting to help with diapers, fake burping sounds. I figured it was normal big-sister excitement. She’s only four, still learning boundaries. So when she asked to hold him “all by herself,” I said yes, as long as I stayed right there.
I settled them into the corner of the couch, made sure her arm was around him just right. He was fussing a little, squirming, but nothing alarming. I grabbed my phone to snap a few pictures. The lighting was great. Her smile looked so proud.
That’s when I noticed him flinching.
At first I thought it was just a newborn twitch. But then I saw her left hand—tucked just out of frame—digging hard into the fabric of his onesie. Not playfully. Her tiny nails were clenched.
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