The day my husband died, a piece of me died with him. It was ripped away by the stone-faced officers sent to my doorstep.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I might get that piece back. And I was right.
Because, while the man I’ve loved for nearly twenty years isn’t as physically gone as I was led to believe, everything that made him who he was, is. He’s forgotten everything. The life we shared.
The years of infertility we battled. Me. If I want to save the family we worked so hard to build, I have to show him why he loved me. Why he chose me to be his wife. Why he should choose me again.
What’s more… I have to tell him I’m pregnant and that he has to raise a child he doesn’t know he wanted with a woman he can’t remember loving.
But it’s not long before I discover the missing piece I prayed for might not fit. And that I may not be able to fall back in love with the stranger my husband has become.
