At the funeral, I stood between three coffins while my in-laws held me upright. Ethan’s mother cried so hard she could barely stand, and his father never let go of my shoulder.

My side of the church was almost empty. No parents. No sister. No cousins. Only my Aunt Ruth, who drove six hours after hearing about the tragedy from a neighbor.

Three days later, my mother sent a text message. It read: Hope you’re managing. Melissa felt hurt you didn’t call her on her birthday.

I stared at the words until my vision blurred. Something inside me simply shut down-