I told her to keep it.
She placed it on a plain ring with her own keys, not on a chain around her neck, and she never used it without calling first.
My baby grew stronger.
The bruises faded, the swelling went down, and the marks around my wrists became thin lines that were easier to ignore on some days than others.
The hidden phone remained stored with the case materials, but I bought a new one and kept it on the kitchen counter where I could see it.
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It was no longer a secret recorder beneath a metal floor.
It held feeding reminders, appointment times, pictures of my baby sleeping, and messages from my sister asking whether I needed groceries.
