If I’d been honest with Chad and with myself, I’d be holding our baby. I’d be the woman to breastfeed this child. I’d be the woman who gave Chad the greatest gift. Regret consumes me, suffocating me like a plastic bag over my head. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel anything but the shuddering in my heart. “Aurelia?” I shake my head, my lips sealed. He doesn’t say a word. He kisses the top of my temple several times because he knows nothing he can say can ever take away the pain of not being this baby’s mother. Chad sighs. “I’m sorry.” “How could you be sorry? Look at who I’m holding,” I say. “I
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