It started small — so small that at first, I thought I was just tired.
Pregnancy brain, stress, exhaustion, whatever excuse I could reach for.
But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.
We hadn’t even finished unpacking when it began.
That morning, sunlight poured into the nursery — the kind of soft, golden light that should’ve made everything feel safe. But as I stood in the doorway, the air felt… heavy. Too still.
Half the boxes were still sealed, stacked neatly against the wall beside the crib Steve had built. A white mobile with tiny paper clouds dangled above it, waiting to be hung.
Except — it was already spinning.
Slowly. Silently.
There was no breeze. No vent running.
I stared at it for a long time, trying to convince myself it was normal — that maybe Steve had walked i
