CLAIRE

I reached the building and rode the elevator up, my vision slightly blurred. Inside the penthouse, I closed the door and leaned against it, my hand pressed to my stomach the way it had been so many times before.

I walked to the couch and sat down, not bothering to turn on the lights as the afternoon shadows stretched across the room.

My phone buzzed but I ignored it, the grief came in waves like this sometimes, unexpected and overwhelming, triggered by something small like a baby on the subway or a mother's smile.

Most days I was fine, most days I focused on work and moving forward and...