There are times when Ruth can feel it—a flickering in her belly—like she’d swallowed a moth and, inexplicably, it lived. At night, as she listens to William snore and tries to get into the rhythm of his gurgling and choking, the tiny phantom heart beats out a message: I’m still here. It makes her feel less alone. Less singular. I’m not just one, she thinks. There’s a life inside me. Was. She traces her fingers over her stomach, as if to stroke the baby’s hair and soothe it back to sleep. William wants them to try again. He is insistent…