Except I didn’t have much of a life left to return to.
Two months earlier, my own baby girl had died. She was only eleven months old.
My husband left the day after the funeral.
He said looking at me made him think about her.
I was too empty to hate him for saying it. I didn’t even cry when he walked out the door for the last time. The pain just didn’t compare to the loss I was already drowning in.
Two months earlier, my own baby girl had died.
So when Hope disappeared into the system, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I started visiting.
At first, I told myself I was only checking on the abandoned baby from Gate 17.
Then, one afternoon, she wrapped her entire hand around my index finger and something inside me, something I had assumed was dead, moved again.
