laughed because I knew if I let myself cry, I wouldn’t stop.
“Don’t start,” I told her. “I actually put mascara on today.”
She laughed through her tears.
Those were the moments I held onto.
The happy ones.
Maybe that’s why I overlooked the others.
Two months before the birth, Ryan and Melissa invited me over to see the nursery.
The walls were painted a soft green. A white crib stood against one wall beneath a mobile made of tiny felt stars.
Melissa opened one drawer after another.
Inside were miniature pajamas, socks, blankets, and little dresses folded into perfect stacks.
“I know I went overboard,” she admitted, smiling. “I just couldn’t stop buying things.”
I smiled with her.
Then I noticed Ryan.
He was standing in the hallway.
He leaned against the doorframe and smiled, but he never stepped inside.
At the time, I thought perhaps the reality of
