Sophia’s POV

Sluggishly, I pull the sheet and help myself up from the bed to sit. Tears leak out of my eyes. My elbows keep the pink fabric pressed over my chest; my palms rest on my eyes as I cry quietly.

My mind recalls the frame on his nightstand and what was written behind it: ‘To the woman who has kept me alive and going…’

“Soph?” My husband calls softly behind me. And my heart shreds further to pieces—for him, for myself, for what our future might hold. It’s hard to ...