The morning after their dinner at the Hamilton estate, the cottage felt unusually peaceful. Violet moved quietly through the small kitchen, tidying away the last of the breakfast dishes while Lily played with Daisy on the rug. The evening before had been warm, filled with laughter and easy conversation—Nathaniel’s kindness lingering in Violet’s thoughts longer than she wished to admit.
But the morning had been quiet and relaxed, the small cottage filled with the scent of fresh muffins softening every corner.
Violet sat by the open window and drew Lily onto her lap to braid her hair. Outside, the garden hummed with life—bees drifting through the flowers while a thrush sang softly from the fence.
Lily shifted happily in her mother’s lap, humming to herself while Daisy curled in her lap, purring softly.
“Mama?” she asked suddenly, touching Violet’s arm. “You said Papa is far, far away doing important work, right?”
Violet’s breath caught, just a little. “Yes, my love. I did.”
Lily nodded, studying the blue ribbon in her hand.
“Is he still doing it? His important work?”
“Yes,” Violet murmured. “He is.”
For a moment Lily went quiet, chewing on her lip the way she did when she was thinking very hard.
Then, softly—
“When he’s all finished… will he come here?”
She looked up, eyes so hopeful Violet felt something twist inside her.
Violet’s hands stilled in her daughter’s hair. She smoothed a curl behind Lily’s ear, steadying the faint tremor in her fingers.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” she whispered.
Lily’s mouth turned down for half a heartbeat—but only half. Children move through sorrow quickly, like birds startled and settling again.
She leaned closer, voice small—
“Do you think he thinks about me?”
Violet’s chest tightened painfully.
“Of course he would,” she said, gathering Lily gently into her arms.
It wasn’t the whole truth.
It wasn’t even close.
But it was the only kindness she could give.
Lily rested her head on Violet’s shoulder, speaking into the fabric of her sleeve.
“Sometimes I pretend he’s on a big ship. With treasure. And maybe… maybe a bell.”
Violet pressed her cheek to her daughter’s hair, breathing in the soft scent of soap and sunshine-warmed cotton.
“That sounds like a wonderful place to imagine.”
Lily pulled back enough to look at her.
“Is Papa brave?”
The question hit like a blow sharpened by the hope in her daughter’s eyes.
