About six months after Sophie came home, Claire called me one evening. I was cleaning up after dinner and almost didn’t hear my phone ring. Her voice sounded different—higher, breathless.
“I have news,” she said, barely containing herself. “Big news. I’m pregnant!”
I froze. “Wait—seriously? You’re serious?”
She laughed, a deep sound filled with disbelief and relief. “Can you believe it? After all these years, Megan… it finally happened!”
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “Claire, that’s incredible!”
We both cried on the phone that night. I told her no one deserved this more than she did, and I meant it.
What I didn’t know—what I couldn’t have imagined—was how quickly that joy would turn into something else entirely.
Within days, Claire had told the whole family. My mom called me in tears. My dad smiled for the first time in weeks. Everyone was thrilled. Claire decided to host a dinner that weekend to celebrate.
“Bring champagne,” she told me. “And wear something nice. This is the start of our new chapter.”
That Saturday, I arrived in a navy dress, holding a chilled bottle of champagne and a small bouquet of lilies. The house looked like something straight out of a lifestyle blog. Soft fairy lights were strung across the ceiling. White roses decorated the table. Candles flickered in gold holders. Everything sparkled.
