Halfway through the service, he leaned close and whispered something that made my skin go cold.
“Grandma… Mommy says you need to look at her stomach.”
I started to shake my head.
I wanted to dismiss it.
I wanted to be normal for one minute.
But Ethan wasn’t playing.
His eyes were wide, terrified, and focused on something I couldn’t see.
“She keeps saying it,” he whispered. “She’s scared.”
I stood up.
And I walked out of the chapel in the middle of my daughter’s funeral.
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