the stress, the chemotherapy schedules, and the lack of sleep.
After all, grieving mothers don’t owe anyone small talk.
“She barely wrote back.”
***
Aaron kissed the top of my head, which still felt new and lovely, and grabbed his keys.
“Drive carefully,” I said.
“Always.”
I watched him from the window as he climbed into his old Civic.
The car pulled away, and the house felt quieter than it should have. Something, I realized, had been building for a while now. I just didn’t know yet what it was.
I watched him from the window.
***
Then Lily’s treatments started taking a visible toll.
She began losing her hair. Even when she tried to be brave about it, everyone could see how much it affected her.
I was still processing the change and how much it affected Diane and her daughter when something else changed.
***
One evening, I was