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

“You knew.”

“Yes.”

That word became unbearable.

PART 19 — I DO NOT DESTROY THE PHOTOS

Part of me wanted to scream at him for keeping them.

Another part clutched them as if anyone might take them away.

I slept with the envelope beside me that night.

Lucas slept downstairs.

Not because one night on the couch was punishment enough.

Because I could not bear his body beside mine.