Two Weeks After Our Baby Died, My 8-Year-Old Whispered, “Mom, She Isn’t Gone—I Saw What Daddy Did at the Hospital”

Lucas sat down.

“Yes.”

PART 5 — CLARA

For one brutal second, jealousy struck me.

Not rational.

Not fair.

But real.

Nora had walked into that hospital with a living newborn.

I had been upstairs losing mine.

Lucas had held Clara.