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Elise studied the drawing for a long moment. “He looks nice.”

“He was.” My throat tightened. “He was the best.”

Silence stretched between us. Then she asked the question that always broke me a little more.

“Do you still miss him?”

I couldn’t speak. I only nodded as a tear slipped down my cheek.

Elise reached up with her tiny hand and gently wiped it away. “It’s okay, Mommy. I think he’s watching over us.”

The innocence of it shattered something deep inside my chest. I pulled her into a hug and buried my face in her soft curls. For one painful moment, holding Elise made me remember what it felt like to hold Seth.

After she ran back downstairs to play, I stayed behind. My gaze drifted from the unfinished portrait to a small silver picture frame sitting beside the easel. I picked it up carefully.

The hospital photograph showed newborn Seth against my chest moments after he entered the world. He was wrapped in a soft blanket with a tiny knit pumpkin hat on his head. His little hand curled tightly around my finger.

I traced the photograph with my thumb.

“I miss you every day,” I whispered.

He would’ve turned fifteen today. I wondered what he would look like. Would he still love cars? Would he still be quiet and thoughtful? Would he enjoy high school? Would he know what he wanted to do after graduation? Would he have fallen in love? Would he love Elise and Ryan as much as I did? Would he still need me?

I kissed two fingers and pressed them gently to the glass over his tiny face. “I love you, Seth.”

I set the photograph beside the portrait, leaving the two images together. Nearby, one of the sketches of my dad and Seth rested against a jar of brushes. It preserved an imagined joy and everything Richard had stolen from us.

Kevin called from downstairs, “The kids are getting excited for trick-or-treating. Elise already wants to try on her costume again.”

Ryan’s laughter reached me from downstairs. Elise’s excited voice followed as she chattered about candy, pumpkins, and the day ahead.

I wiped away the last of my tears, calmed my breathing, and took a look at Seth’s portrait. I looked at the photograph of him in the pumpkin hat and the imagined sketch of him with the grandfather he never met.

I smiled because grief had never erased my love for him. Some wounds never closed. I had learned how to carry mine.

Grief had shown me that my heart could carry more love than I had ever thought possible.

I turned off the studio light and paused at the door.

“I’ll always love you,” I whispered.

Then I closed the door softly behind me and walked downstairs, carrying the memory of the children I’d lost while cherishing every moment with the children I could still hold.

Chapter 44

Richard

The road curved through dense pines beneath the low beams of my headlights.

Seven years had passed since my life became simpler.

Samantha was gone, and Maggie remained locked away. I no longer divided myself between the Collective and the exhausting roles I had played at home. I used to return from an assignment and spend hours listening to school projects, neighborhood gossip, and complaints that meant nothing to me. I nodded at the appropriate moments and pretended my family mattered.

That performance had ended.

The new house belonged to me, and so did the boys. I trained them, completed whatever work the Collective required, and slept without Samantha demanding that I participate in her version of a family.

She probably still cried over Seth and Luke. The thought made me smile.