“Who?”
Alexander gazed at his wife’s photograph.
“Not the way I spent so many nights wishing she would.”
His voice broke.
“But something she gave the world came back to Oliver when he needed it most.”
Hannah began crying again.
Alexander embraced her.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She shook her head against his shoulder.
“I think you should thank Elizabeth.”
He looked toward the portrait.
And for the first time in eleven months, remembering his wife brought more gratitude than pain.
That evening, after the opening ceremony, Alexander and Oliver returned home together.
The autumn sun was setting behind the trees.
Their house no longer felt like a museum filled with things nobody dared touch.
Oliver’s drawings covered the refrigerator.
His toys lay scattered across the living room.
Fresh flowers stood beside Elizabeth’s photograph.
And laughter had slowly returned to rooms that once held only silence.
Alexander helped Oliver into his pajamas.
Then they sat together on the edge of the bed.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Can I ask something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you think Mommy knows about Hannah?”
Alexander smiled.
“I think she’d be very happy they met.”
Oliver considered that.
“Maybe Mommy helped Hannah so Hannah could help me.”
