She had rebuilt. That was the first thing. A one-bedroom above a bakery, plants in the window, a job managing scheduling for a dental group that she liked more than she’d expected to.

She was forty-four and had cut her hair short and looked, Daniel thought, about nine years younger than she had in 2021.

She made coffee. She talked about the divorce, which had finalized eighteen months ago and had been ugly for about a year and then simply stopped being anything.

She asked after Lily and listened to the answer.

Then Daniel said, “I got an email from Priya Raman.”

Melissa put her cup down.