Daniel stared straight ahead and focused on the door even as dread grew steadily in his stomach. He approached the door purposefully, putting one foot in front of the other, taking in the chipped white paint, the grain of the wood, the weight of the door knocker. The house seemed to close in around him, reminding him that a beautiful little girl used to live here, and that she didn’t anymore. The less he saw, the better. He picked up the door knocker, letting it fall with a squeak and thud. He could almost hear her little feet rush to open the door.

“It’s open.” Daniel heard Sheila call from inside. He turned the knob and forced himself to step into a house that was no longer his.

The familiar smell hit him first. It was a mixture of whatever had been made for dinner last night and whatever candle Sheila had burned after. But Daniel swore that Sara’s scent still clung to the air. Maybe he imagined it, but what did that matter? “Hey, Sheila. It’s me.”

“In the kitchen, Daniel.”

Daniel stood in his old foyer. The house was small. A starter house, their agent had called it. Something they would grow out of one day. He hadn’t thought they’d grow out of it in quite the way they had.

Everything was all at once familiar and strange. The little bench they used to keep for Sara to put on her shoes was no longer there. In its place was a mat. A set of men’s running shoes was neatly placed in the middle. They would be Jim’s.

Out of habit, he slipped off his shoes and placed them next to Jim’s, taking small, hesitant steps toward the kitchen. “How’s Jim? He’s not home?”

Sheila sat at a small dining table, surrounded by papers. “He’s fine. He’s at a conference this weekend. Come on in, Daniel. I have coffee.” She moved aside a few stacks. “Sorry, I have to get these charts done before surgery tomorrow.”

“What do you have?” He sat down across from her.

“Back-to-back-to-back cataracts.” She smiled. She and Daniel had always loved talking about medicine. Jim was an ophthalmologist, as well. Daniel could only assume their conversations were interesting. “Want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

Sheila locked eyes with him as she stood. Daniel understood in that instant why she had called him. He clenched his jaw as blood rushed to his head and his ears pounded.

“You’re pregnant.” He spit the accusation out from in between his teeth, unable to even open his mouth. He grazed over her swollen belly with an experienced eye. “Like, five, six months.”

Sheila swallowed hard and went to fetch the coffee. Her hand shook as she placed the mug in front him. “Yes. I’m due end of March. I wanted to tell you in person.” She looked down at him, blue eyes hesitant.