Gia.
She had a way of inserting herself into everything, turning even the most intimate moments into something strategic.
I checked the hallway again.
Nothing.
No Sam.
When I stepped back into the room, the silence hit me first.
Just my daughters.
Riley.
And a folded note.
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My name written across it.
I opened it.
For illustrative purposes only
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“I’m sorry, Erica.
I can’t do this. I can’t do babies. I know we wanted them so badly, but I think I was caught up in your excitement, not mine.
I can’t do this life.
Don’t come looking for me.
