INT. ICU ROOM — MORNING

The room is brighter now.

Jo is still propped upright in her bed.
The effort shows.

Iris checks the dressing near the Impella insertion site, then the C-section incision. 

IRIS
Good.
It’s healing well.
 
Jo nods faintly.

IRIS (CONT’D)
How are you feeling?

Jo opens her mouth again.
Nothing comes out. 
Her throat burns.

She shakes her head.
Defeated.

Link answers for her.

LINK
She wants to see the babies.

Iris hesitates, just briefly.

Before she can answer, Ndugu enters.

Iris glances toward him.
Familiar, but professional.
A quiet connection in the making.

NDUGU
Morning.

IRIS
Morning.

She gives him a quick update and steps aside.

Ndugu moves closer so Jo doesn’t have to strain to look at him.

He meets her eyes.

NDUGU
Hey.

Jo looks at him, exhausted. Pleading. 
No small talk.

JO
(hoarse, low)
When can I see them?

It scrapes coming out.

Ndugu exhales slowly.

He already knows this moment was coming.

NDUGU
I’m really sorry, Jo.
(a beat)
It’s too soon.

Silence.

Jo blinks. 
Her breathing picks up slightly.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
Right now, your heart is still relying on the pump.

He gestures lightly toward the monitor.

The numbers climb a few beats, reacting to the conversation.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
Even sitting up is pushing it.
(a beat)
We can't move you out of this room yet.

Jo’s jaw tightens.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
The NICU means sitting upright. Movement. Stimulation.
(a beat)
Your heart can’t handle that yet.

A beat.
Jo swallows.
Her throat burns.

JO
(hoarse, controlled)
They… need me.

The words scrape.
Ndugu doesn’t soften.

NDUGU
They need you to get through this first.
 
Jo's gaze flicks to Link.

Link leans closer to her.

LINK
We’ll get you there.
Soon.

Something sharp flickers behind her exhaustion.

She holds his gaze, then turns away.
Presses her eyes shut.
Tears slip quietly down her cheeks.

Link absorbs it.
Ndugu keeps his tone calm.

NDUGU
This isn’t about keeping you from them.

A beat.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
It’s about getting you strong enough to stay with them.

Jo opens her eyes briefly. Glassy.
She's breathing through the ache in her throat.

JO
(hoarse, low)
How long?

NDUGU
Hard to say.
Maybe a few days.
If things go the way we want.

Honest. Contained.

Jo sinks slightly deeper into the pillow.
The energy drains out of her.

Then another thought surfaces.
Fragile.

JO
(hoarse, low)
I wanted to breastfeed.

The words come out fragile.

Jo looks between them.

JO (CONT’D)
(hoarse, low)
I’m gonna miss the window.

Iris steps forward slightly.
Very softly.

IRIS
Jo…
(soft)
They're still too young for that.

Jo registers it. 
They are too small to latch yet.

Iris continues, steady.

IRIS (CONT’D)
But we can try a short pumping session.
See how you tolerate it.
Short. Monitored.

Ndugu nods.

NDUGU
If your numbers stay stable, we can build from there. 

Iris adds gently.
 
IRIS
That'll help protect your supply.
(a beat, soft)
Even if nothing comes out yet, it still helps.

Jo swallows.

IRIS (CONT'D)
And once they're ready—
and you’re stronger—you can transition to nursing. 

NDUGU
Nursing takes a lot out of the body.
And it means sitting upright, holding the baby against your chest.
(a beat)
We're not ready for that yet.

A beat.

Jo turns her face slightly away.
Pulling inward.

LINK
Hey.

She doesn’t look back.

LINK (CONT'D)
You still get to feed them.

Jo finally turns toward him.
Eyes glassy. 

JO
(hoarse, low)
That’s not the same.

The monitor ticks up again.
A quiet warning tone.

Ndugu lets the silence settle.

NDUGU
(gently)
Your job right now is to heal.

Jo exhales.
Shaky.

She nods. Desperately. 
Not agreement.
Exhaustion.

Her shoulders sink back into the pillows.
The fight drains out of her.

Iris glances at the chart, then at Jo.

IRIS
Any breast tenderness yet?

Jo shifts slightly.
Her chest aches.

She shakes her head faintly.

A beat.

Iris rests a hand on Jo's arm. 

IRIS (CONT’D)
We’ll take it step by step.
(a beat)
I’ll check with the team and come back.

Iris steps out.

Ndugu lingers a moment.

NDUGU
We’ll get you there as soon as we can.

Then he leaves too.

The room quiets.

Machines humming softly.

Link stays beside the bed.

Jo’s eyes are closed now.
Not asleep.
Just spent.

Link studies her.

LINK
I’ll go down later.

A beat.

He squeezes her hand.
Jo doesn’t answer.
But a tear slides quietly toward her hairline.
Too tired to wipe it away.

Link sees it.
And stays beside her. 

The distance is small.
But it’s there.

FADE OUT.