Morning light slipped quietly through the dusty blinds of Noah’s nursery, creating pale golden lines across a crib that had never been used. Kate stood in the doorway with one hand resting against the wooden frame, unable to step farther inside and equally unable to walk away.
Three weeks had passed since her newborn son died in the hospital, yet every object in the room still seemed to be waiting for him. The folded blankets, unopened diapers, tiny clothes, and carefully arranged toys remained exactly where she and her husband had placed them.
The room had once represented possibility. During the final months of her pregnancy, Kate had spent hours imagining ordinary moments that now…
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