I hate Mondays. My stomach roils as I enter the law firm-Omar’s practice. I haven’t been here in the year since Omar passed. I tried to prepare myself, knowing everything would remind me of him, but obviously, I failed. The air feels heavy and hot. It hurts my chest to breathe. I keep my eyes focused on the carpet before me and the artwork on the wall opposite me for fear I might lose what little hold I have on my emotions.

The receptionist cuts my misery short, taking me to the ...