But then, about a month ago, I stumbled across Sherry on a "people you may know" suggestion.
Her feed was littered with glimpses of Ryan, blurry though they were, I'd know him anywhere.
He'd taken them—her and the kid—on his business trips, hitting all the tourist traps.
They even hit that starlit restaurant I'd always dreamed of, all three munching on a kid's meal.
At that moment, it felt like the sky was falling.
For so long, Ryan had kept it under wraps. If it hadn't been for that friend suggestion, who knows when I'd have found out about his affair.
As I was washing up, I saw Ryan talking on the phone.
The balcony's warm light bathed his profile in a gentle glow—the same tenderness he used to show when telling stories to my belly during pregnancy.
I put away the last dish and retreated to our room.
The next morning, I discreetly followed him out.
He was off to pick up Sherry and the kid, and they all headed to the mall together.
Ryan and Sherry were each holding the kid's hands, their laughter floating back to me.
Watching their easy camaraderie, I couldn't help but imagine—if our kid had lived, maybe that could have been us.
But that chance was gone forever.