“I see it as a dying wish.”
My daughter was quiet for a long moment. Then she looked at Victor.
“I can’t promise you anything. But I’ll listen.”
***
Weeks later, Victor started showing up with small things. A coffee. A phone call. Nothing loud.
Hannah kept Luke’s card framed on her nightstand, where she could see it every morning.
“I can’t promise you anything.”
I stood in the hallway one evening in front of Luke’s photos, my hand pressed to the wall.
“You kept your promise, sweetheart. You were there, and you brought him back.”
And somehow, I knew he heard me.
