I let that sink in for a moment, trying to find some relief that my aunt was just inches away and that she had finally forgiven me, but there was nothing. She’d abandoned me for months because she’d been angry; the fact that she’d shown up because of the accident seemed hypocritical. She hadn’t been happy about Alex or the baby anyway, so why was she trying to comfort me when she’d gotten what she wanted?

“Missed you, too,” I replied honestly. “Poor timing for a visit, though.” I wasn’t ready to give her more than that. My trust was gone.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted when you told me you’d gotten married,” she said softly, brushing her fingers through my hair. “And when you told us about the baby. But I’m here now.” She paused, waiting for a response that I refused to give her. “God has a plan, Sarai,” she said. “You’ll have more children. Later, when you’re ready.”

My whole body went hot as I opened my eyes. No. She didn’t get to act as if this were all part of a big plan, like my child had been a mistake. “God didn’t kill my child,” I replied flatly. “A man did. He’s currently rotting in a military jail for it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant,” I said, cutting her off.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, sighing as she ran her fingers along the cast covering my wrist, like she could heal the bone beneath it with just her touch. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” I muttered, closing my eyes again. “There’s nothing to say.”

She was quiet for a while, and I felt sleep pulling me under again.

“Your uncle is here, too. He’s in the kitchen with your husband.” My heart gave a weak thump at her use of the word. At least she’d acknowledged our marriage.

“Good,” I replied. For the first time in a while, I felt something resembling hope. Maybe if they spent some time with him, they’d grow to love him like I did.

“Aren’t you going to go out and save him?” she teased.

“No,” I said easily. “Alex can take care of himself.”

*  *  *

I sat at the table later that night, picking at my food while my aunt and uncle tried to pull me into their conversation. I responded when I was supposed to and asked for clarification when I knew I should, but they must have known that I had no interest in hearing stories about the people I used to know. New York felt so far away now, like an alien planet.

“Maybe you should come home with us,” my aunt said. “Stay for a while.”

“Adinah,” my uncle said firmly, cutting her off.