Weeks passed in a haze of sleepless nights and quiet sobbing. Noah cried often. I cried more.
Then, one night, while rocking him in a borrowed crib, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Mia,” a voice said softly.
I froze.
It was Deborah.
Her tone was different. Gentle. Almost… kind.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I want you and the baby to come for dinner.”
My stomach twisted.
I should have hung up.
I didn’t.

