Standing next to Whitney was a woman around my age with a young girl who barely stood taller than the woman’s waist.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” she said, “but I have to ask, are you one of the survivors of the bombing?”

Survivor.

A word I couldn’t wrap my head around.

When I didn’t respond, Whitney answered, “Yes, he is.”

“The way you were looking at the street, I had a feeling.” She held the girl’s small hand, pressing it against her pregnant belly. “Their daddy—my husband—he wasn’t one of the lucky ones.” She chewed her lip so hard; I was sure there had to be blood. “My Charlie didn’t survive.”

An ache stabbed my heart, shoving all the way into my throat. “I’m so sorry.”

The little girl wrapped her arms around her mother’s leg, clinging like it was rope.

“He was a cop, on duty at the time.” Tears were in her eyes. “We’ve been coming here every day.” She looked toward the road, her chin quivering, not letting anything fall from her eyes. A pillar of strength for her daughter and the child she had on the way. “I don’t know why; it just makes us feel close to him again.”

“Your daddy is a hero,” I told the young girl with a head full of dark curls, her eyes the deepest blue.

“So are you,” she replied in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

Whitney’s hand found mine, stopping my fingers from shaking.

“Gracie, baby, no—” the mother shouted as the girl released her and ran toward me.

“It’s okay,” I said to the mom as Gracie squeezed in between my legs, leaning up on her toes to throw her little arms around my neck.

“Baby …” the mother cried, watching her daughter hug me as she patted her round stomach. Her tears finally fell, which she quickly wiped away.

I rubbed Gracie’s back, keeping mine as straight as possible, unable to move any more without yelling out in pain, but knowing I needed to be strong for her too. “You’re such a brave girl, you know that?” Her arms tightened around me. “Your dad would be so proud of you for being here.”

She crawled down and rushed back to her mom.

Thank you, the mother mouthed, hugging her daughter before burying her face in the little girl’s neck.

I nodded, and Whitney began pushing me in the direction of my condo. We made it about a block before she pulled us underneath a storefront and knelt in front of me. The emotion in her eyes matched the thickness in my chest.

“That’s a moment I’ll remember forever,” she whispered.