Luna didn't sleep that night. She sat curled in the window seat, staring at the photograph until her eyes burned. The woman in the picture had her face, her smile, but there was something different in her expression—a contentment that Luna had never seen in her own reflection. The kind of peace that came from carrying new life, from believing in a future worth building.
The man beside her mother wore a white lab coat, his face partially turned away from the camera. He looked familiar somehow, though Luna couldn't place him. Was he still alive? Did he know what had happened to her mother? To the baby?
She'd searched her memories until her head pounded, but found nothing. No recollection of her mother being pregnant, no dreams of a baby sister or brother. The child in her mother's womb wou
