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When I lost my baby at nineteen weeks, I thought grief would be the hardest thing I’d ever survive. I didn’t know my husband and my best friend were already sharing a secret that would destroy what was left of me.
Camden was steady, dependable—the kind of man you build a life with. Elise was my chosen sister, dazzling and magnetic. She cried with me over ultrasound photos. Bought baby socks before I was twelve weeks along.
Camden grieved for one night and never spoke of the baby again. Elise pulled away. I thought grief had simply hollowed us all out.
Six weeks later, Elise texted: “Big news!! I’m pregnant!! Please come to my gender reveal.”
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