Roman lifted the baby from the water. His hands were shaking. His breath caught in his throat. The baby was coated in a thick, white, waxy substance. It clung to the tiny shoulders, the creases of the elbows, the folds of the neck. Roman wiped the baby's face with a clean towel, his movements clumsy, almost reverent.

Then he noticed the slightly protruding part of the baby’s sex.

"A boy." Roman stared. For a second, his mind blanked.

Evelyn's head lifted weakly, breathing heavily. "What?"

"A boy." Roman repeated. Gazing at the tiny face, the clenched fists, and the open mouth wailing at the world. He let out a short...