A gallery painting bore my daughter’s face—until the truth behind it shattered everything I thought I knew

stars. A child’s handwriting.

Supernova, come to my birthday or I’ll be offended forever. Love, Lily.

My throat closed.

Lily’s last birthday party.

I remembered her sitting by the window in a paper crown, trying not to look disappointed.

“Maybe Nova got busy,” I had told her.

Lily had shrugged too quickly.

“It’s okay.”

But it continue reading …