Sophia
I couldn't sleep the night before the wedding, though not from anxiety this time, more from a kind of quiet, disbelieving wonder that kept pulling me back awake every time I started to drift off.
Mia had insisted on staying over at my mother's house with me, tradition demanding we not see Mark until the ceremony itself, and she was fast asleep in the other bed by midnight while I lay staring at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom, my hand resting over the curve of my stomach, feeling the occasional gentle shift of the baby inside.
I thought about the rain that first night, standing outside an apartment that no longer felt like home, mascara running, certain my entire life had just collapsed around me. I thought about the version of myself who'd walked two blocks to a bar with a r
