“It was too late, but they thought maybe…”

“And you said yes.”

“I couldn’t let her go without one of her parents holding her.”

The words hurt because I understood them.

“Then why did you tell me you hadn’t seen her?”

He stared at the floor.

“When you woke up, you were confused. You were in pain. I thought if I told you…”

“You thought what?”

“That you’d want every detail.”

“I did.”

His face crumpled.

“I was terrified it would destroy you.”

I stared at him.

“You asked if she was already gone.”

“I thought if I told you…”

“And what did you tell me?”

He fell silent.

“I said yes.”

My stomach dropped.

“Was she?”

Robert didn’t answer.

“Robert.”

He finally looked at me.

“Could I still have seen her?”

“Yes.”

I stepped away.

“Then you didn’t just hide your goodbye from me.”

My voice shook.

“You took mine.”

He closed his eyes.

“What exactly did you protect me from, Robert?”

I could barely speak.

“I woke up with milk for a baby who wasn’t here. I can’t walk past her nursery.”

His face crumpled.

“I made the wrong choice.”

“You made it again every day you kept lying.”

He sat down.

“I made the wrong choice.”

I remained standing.

“Did they give you anything? Any keepsakes?”

Silence.

“Robert.”

He said nothing.

“What did they give you?”

“A card.”

“Where?”

His eyes moved toward the stairs.