One week after we laid Adam to rest, Lucas’s first birthday arrived. The last thing I wanted to do was attend a children’s birthday party, but family obligations pulled at me. “Adam would want you to go,” my mother insisted during one of her daily check-in calls. “He always said family comes first.”

So I found myself driving to Cassandra’s small rental house in a less desirable part of town, a wrapped gift on the passenger seat and dark circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer could hide. I had barely slept since Adam died, spending nights staring at his empty side of the bed, reaching for a warmth that was no longer there. I parked behind a line of cars and took several deep breaths before grabbing the gift and heading inside. No one should have to fake happiness so soon after losing their husband, I thought. But I plastered on a smile and knocked on the door.

Cassandra’s friend Jenna opened it, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of me. “Oh, Bridget, you made it,” she said, her voice oddly strained. She glanced over her shoulder before stepping aside. “Come in. Everyone is in the backyard.”