She lightly touches her neck now, her fingers grazing that spot that used to drive her crazy. She hastily pulls her hand away. If she’d known all that was coming, she would have tried harder. She would have told him how much she appreciated him every single day.

Where had the time gone? Savi is already ten, her childhood punctured by the grief that comes from unexpectedly losing a parent. It devastates her now to realize she and Paul had been so busy working to make ends meet, that what they’d really missed was spending as much time together as a family as they could … before they weren’t.

She bypasses Jackson’s room and opens the door to the guest room. Dust dances in front of the naked window. It smells musty, like there might have been a water leak at one point. How did she miss that? She checks the ceiling for stains and spots one on the far corner, a rusted brown patch she’ll have her contractor check out. She measures for drapes and then leans against the window.

Down below, a few moms distractedly follow kids on bikes. Two neighbors water perfectly emerald lawns, waving and chatting over the spray. A young girl in a watermelon bathing suit sprints through a sprinkler and giggles. She thinks of Savi at that age, how simple life seemed. She thought she’d gotten through the hard stuff—Savi’s first year—and it would be relatively smooth sailing from there.

Wrong.

The Metra train rumbles past a few streets away. The setting down below is so idyllic. There’s no room for grief in a town like this, and yet she’s drowning in it. But so is Bec, she reminds herself. Even though she puts on a brave face for the world, Crystal knows what she must feel in her quietest moments. Those moments reserved for the widowed. And yet they still have to get up every day, get dressed, make money, and take care of their kids.

She steps away from the window and rolls her own shoulders in an attempt to relax. She longs for a time when she is no longer getting through something but will instead be on the other side of it.

On the way back down the hall, she stops at the landing. This time, she closes her eyes. Her world tilts. She reaches for the banister. Vertigo. She toes the edge of the stairs and second-guesses gravity as she lowers herself inch by inch. She descends until she misses a step and opens her eyes before she falls.