I tried to answer.
But the tears came before the words.
I cried harder than I had at any point that week.
Mom wrapped her arms around me.
And for the first time since Sophie’s birth, I let someone else hold me together.
The following morning, my phone showed fourteen missed calls from Elon.
There were messages too.
*“Please call me.”*
*“I’m sorry.”*
*“I ended things with Sierra.”*
*“I don’t want to lose you.”*
*“I don’t want to lose Sophie.”*
I read them.
Then I placed the phone in a drawer.
I went downstairs.
Dad was standing at the stove making pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse.
“For the baby,” he announced.
I looked at him.
“Dad, she’s three months old.”
He thought about that.
“Then these are for you.”
For the first time in days, I laughed without forcing it.
Later that morning, I called Gloria.
