“Daddy, do grown-ups cry when nobody sees them?”
Alexander looked at his son.
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
He nodded.
“Sometimes.”
Oliver moved closer.
“Then you can cry with me.”
Alexander gathered him into his arms.
And for the first time since Elizabeth’s funeral, he allowed himself to weep without hiding his face.
Their healing was slow.
It was not a straight path.
Some mornings Oliver laughed at breakfast.
Other days, the sight of Elizabeth’s empty chair brought him to tears.
Alexander learned that love did not mean making grief disappear.
Sometimes it meant staying beside someone while they carried it.
Meanwhile, Hannah’s life had changed in ways she never expected.
The hotel reinstated her shifts and paid the wages she had lost during Richard’s retaliation.
Alexander also arranged for an independent review of employee complaints so that other workers would no longer fear losing their jobs for speaking up.
Hannah returned to nursing school.
She had always dreamed of working with children, especially those struggling through illness and loss.
But she refused Alexander’s initial offer to pay all her expenses.
“I appreciate it,” she told him, “but I don’t want you to feel you owe me because I gave Oliver some milk.”
Alexander smiled.
“You did much more than that.”
“I did what someone once did for me.”
He looked curious.
“Who?”
Hannah lowered her eyes.
“Someone kind.”
