you were a part of dana’s life that she didn’t think about.

she didn’t think about the baby that she gave up for adoption all those years ago, she was young. it was before she met benji and she had no money, had nothing to her name. the baby she held for thirty minutes, before giving her to the nurse. the hole in her heart that was never filled.

and it was so hard at first. moving through life as if she didn’t have a daughter out there somewhere. as if she wasn’t a mom. but, at the same time, she wasn’t. not really. and it took time but eventually she did it. and then she met benji. had her other two beautiful daughters: bella and olivia. none of them know.

but dana always thought about you. on your birthday. on christmas. she would sometimes try and look for you online, but she’d never know if your adoptive parents kept the name she gave you. it hurt worse on some days more than overs, and she learned to grow and live with it.

when she sees you again, she doesn’t know it’s you straight away. obviously you’re older. but you’re the new nurse at work. dana doesn’t catch on at first. things you’re like all the new, young, bright eyed nurses. so she takes you under her wing for the first shift. helps you around patients. asks you a few questions. but then she sees it.

under your scrub top. the necklace that she left with you when you was a baby. the necklace she begged your adoptive parents to give to you.

she feels sick. excuses herself. spends the next week convincing herself that it’s a coincidence. a coincidence you have the same name. the same necklace. but she’s drawn to you. she presumes it’s motherly instinct. the connected she feels with you is strong, and she wants to pour all her love into you, all the love you missed out on.

and now she’s watching you. watching as you label blood. dana watches from afar, arms crossed and leant against the nurses station.

to anyone, it looks like she’s keeping an eye on the new nurse.

to dana, she’s watching her daughter.