Michelle arrived late, the way storms always did—unannounced, unwanted, and charged with something heavy in the air.

The alumni hall was already loud with laughter and clinking glasses when the doors at the back creaked open. Few people noticed at first. The band was playing something nostalgic, lights warm and flattering, conversations overlapping like old memories stitched together. It took only one sharp intake of breath from someone near the entrance for the ripple to begin.

Michelle stood there in a fitted black dress, too tight for someone that far along, though she clearly tried to hide it. Her makeup was heavy—foundation thick enough to mask sleepless nights, lipstick too...