When Amber was little, she had a quantum scientist phase: it was her temporary belief that every moment, every decision would open infinite possibilities of what-ifs.
The school bus would come late, what if it had come earlier? Would Amber have gotten into an accident?
Only her mom kissed her good night and dad was nowhere to be found ; did that mean she would finally get a new dad to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day?
With every scenario her life saw, Amber's mind jotted down a billion possible future outcomes each. There were three diaries full of such desperate scrawls about things out of control, future predictions that she couldn't help but mourn forever.
That day, as she sat in the middle of her mother's most earnest memories, Amber still felt the grief storming in her heart. There was a void beside her and in her, where her mother and her love once was. Sometimes, Amber would take anything to be a sign that Natalie was still there with her.
"Hey kid," Mark's voice at the door was hoarse from sleep. He beckoned her out of the dusty room, giving some excuse about food downstairs.
But they both knew Amber couldn't go too deep into her mother's past, it would only tear open a mending wound.
That night, Amber and Mark sat on the couch after the night had ended. The babies were finally asleep and the silence of the house reminded them of corners: every corner that held a piece of Natalie. The house was a living breathing lament of the days gone, the person lost and the life that now became.
Amber was at the threshold of a new future, but she couldn't help but think of a different one.
Where her mom didn't die.
What if Natalie Turner never had cancer? What if Natalie Turner found the tumor before she was pregnant...
