Spring turned into summer. The park filled with flowers. The days grew long and warm.
I kept working at the publishing house. Priya promoted me to senior editor in June, and I took on a new roster of authors. I found that I was good at it, better than I had been before, because I was no longer afraid of saying what I thought. I gave notes that were direct and honest. I asked for what I needed. I learned that the world did not fall apart when I used my voice.
I started seeing a therapist, a woman named Dr. Reyes who specialized in trauma. We talked about the miscarriage, about the years of silence, about the way I had learned to disappear. We talked about Daniel and Eleanor and the second phone. We talked about the woman I was becoming.
"It is normal to feel grief," Dr. Reyes said. "You
