The digital clock on the wall glowed 6:07 when my eyes slid open. I hadn’t slept more than a couple of disjointed hours, and already my body felt leaden—like someone had poured exhaustion into my bones. Caleb was whimpering in his crib, a thin, urgent sound that snagged at the edges of me. I moved on autopilot, swung my legs over the bed, and lifted him clumsily. He fit against my chest in the small, familiar way only a newborn can—heat and tiny weight and the tiny, immediate trust that should have been comforting.
Instead it anchored me to everything I couldn’t make sense of.
Isabella slept on, breath soft and steady, the slow rise and fall of her shoulders a small mercy. Liam was gone. The absence felt like an open door I didn’t know whether to step through. Part of me ached for him t
