He researched the safest cribs.
He argued—in the sweetest way possible—that she would inherit his smile and my stubbornness.
Life felt perfect.
Until the headaches began.
At first, Ethan blamed work.
Then he started forgetting simple things.
One afternoon he drove to the grocery store and called me because he couldn’t remember why he was there.
A week later he dropped a drinking glass and stared at his own hand like it belonged to someone else.
The tests came too late.
A rare brain disorder.
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