Myla sat in her home office, her hands trembling slightly as she poured herself a glass of water.

She missed Jared with a deep, physical ache that sat heavily in her chest. Every time she walked past his office or saw his empty spot on the bed, a suffocating wave of grief threatened to pull her under.

“Don’t think about it,” she muttered to herself firmly, closing her eyes and taking three slow, deliberate breaths. “It's bad for the baby.”

She opened her pill organizer, taking out ...