I stared at her. My throat thickened, and I blinked hard.
"She's not a failure," Bennett added softly. "She's the reason you're still breathing."
---
Three Days Later
I heard Astrid's cry before I even saw her.
The facility had a private visiting room for "sensitive guests," which I'd quickly learned was code for we don't want paparazzi near your baby. My mother was already inside when I walked in, Astrid in her arms, Kyle sitting cross-legged on the floor building a block tower.
"Mommy!" Kyle ran to me, nearly knocking me over.
I dropped to my knees and hugged him like I hadn't seen him in years. Maybe, in some way, I hadn't.
"You smell like crayons," I said into his hair.
He giggled. "I made you a picture! It's us and Spidey and Astrid and the sun."
I kissed his forehead. "That's my favorite lineup."
Astrid whimpered, and my mom handed her over gently. "She's teething. But she smiles when she hears your voice."
I pressed her to my chest, breathing in that sweet, milky scent. Her tiny fingers tugged at my shirt, and I smiled through my tears.
"They miss you," my mother whispered. "We all do."
"I'm trying, Mom," I said, my voice breaking. "I really am."
"I know, baby. I know."
I looked up and noticed one of the nurses watching from the glass. A few other patients had taken notice too. Whispers had already started-That's Corinne Holt. The model. The influencer. The one with the suicide scare. The one with a destroyed marriage.
They looked at me like I was some fallen angel. A warning sign. Or worse, a headline.
I didn't care. Not today.
---
Evening - The Lounge
Tate threw a chip at my head.
"You're zoning out again," he teased.
"I was reflecting," I said, stealing one of his Oreos. "You should try it sometime."
"Therapy already turning you poetic," Sylvia grinned, braiding her hair.
"I'm still a mess," I said. "Just a slightly self-aware one."
Brittany was sitting across the room, flipping through a notebook. She hadn't spoken to anyone yet. Not really.
"I don't think she's spoken a full sentence since she got here," Tate muttered.
"She watches everything, though," Sylvia said.
I stood. "Maybe she's waiting for someone to go first."