The auditorium was packed when they called my name. I walked to the podium with my speech folded in my hand, and my eyes went straight to the front row. Three chairs sat empty, each with its little sign, Reserved for Dr. Sofia Navarro’s Family. My throat tightened. Nine hundred strangers were waiting for me to begin, and I realized I could not read one word of what I had written.

Then my phone buzzed in my gown pocket, and I glanced down. It was a photo from my mother. Nathan was on one knee in a restaurant garden, and my parents were crying behind him, glasses raised. Under it she had typed: “Hope your little thing went well, sweetie!” I looked up at the microphone. I put the speech down. Then I lifted my arm and pointed at those empty chairs.