Chapter 4: The Empty Church

After Angie died, I couldn’t stop wondering whether one different friend, one different afternoon, one different choice might have changed everything.

Two days later, I buried my only child.

At the church, I kept looking toward the doors without meaning to, waiting for Angie to rush in late and laughing, apologizing with that bright, breathless smile of hers.

Her friends didn’t come.

And I hated them for that too.

When the funeral ended, I drove home in silence.

But the moment I turned into my driveway, I saw the front door standing open.

The porch light was on.

The living room lamp glowed softly through the window.

I had turned everything off before leaving.

My body went cold.

I stepped inside and found all four of Angie’s friends standing among the funeral flowers, framed photos, and casseroles I knew I would never touch. Continue Reading ⬇️