It was a Thursday, and Julia had returned home from another appointment. The results weren’t good. Her hormone levels had dropped again. Her doctor had been kind, but clinical. “We’ll keep trying,” she’d said. But something in her voice had changed. Julia heard it—the soft undercurrent of time running out.
Still, she didn’t cry. She came home, changed into comfortable clothes, and started on laundry while waiting for Connor to return. When he walked in, he kissed her cheek and asked how her day had been. She forced a smile, lied, and said it was fine. Then she reached into the laundry basket.