She squeezes her eyes tightly shut not to let the tears fall. “That day, that moment, if I could have that time back.”
The morning of September 22 had started out innocuously enough. Yes, Javed was crying at the top of his newborn lungs, wanting his early feeding. But that was normal for a two-month baby. She’d fed him, then walked him up and down the tiny apartment, rubbing his back so he’d burp, all the while practicing aloud the words of the scene for the movie she was auditioning for later in the day. She’d been so excited when her agent had called with the opportunity—so few and far between these days ever since she’d had baby Javed. Ninety seconds was all it took to make him, and it was going to take a lifetime to raise him.
