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The day Grace had a miscarriage, her husband, Edward, was with another woman while she gave birth. Grace lay on the operating table, signing the papers herself, losing both of her babies. Three days later, Edward announced online, [Yes, we have a child.] Grace sent him the signed divorce agreement. He called and asked, "Grace, are you crazy?" She knew she wasn't crazy. It took her three years to understand one thing. He wasn't the light of her life. He was only up on a pedestal. She'd been looking up at him so long that she forgot she could shine, too. Later, a man asked her by the sea, "What are you thinking about?" She said, "An essay I wrote when I was sixteen, about fish in the deep sea that light up on their own." He smiled. "Once you've found the light, you shouldn't cry anymore."