LUKE.
“She wrote back?”
His face changed.
“She wrote back?”
“Yes.”
“All this time?”
Rachel started crying.
“We kept thinking we’d send them once things felt more stable.”
“Your letters came through to us. At first, everyone thought limiting direct contact might help Emma settle. She kept writing replies anyway.”
Luke stared into the box.
“Then why didn’t I get them?”
Rachel wiped her eyes.
Don’t miss
Luke opened one letter.
“We kept thinking we’d send them once things felt more stable. Then too much time passed, and admitting we’d waited so long became harder.”
David looked down.
“We should have fixed it.”
Luke opened one letter.
A girl appeared on the staircase.
Then another.
His hands shook.
From upstairs, a door opened.
A girl appeared on the staircase.
She stared at Luke.
Then Emma ran upstairs again.
Luke stood.
Neither spoke.
Then Emma ran upstairs again.
Luke’s face crumpled.
“I knew it.”
Emma came running back carrying a battered stuffed rabbit.
But footsteps thundered overhead.
Emma came running back carrying a battered stuffed rabbit.
Luke stopped breathing.
She held it up.
“You gave me Mr. Buttons.”
Luke covered his mouth.
He dropped to his knees and wrapped both arms around her.
Emma ran straight into him.
He dropped to his knees and wrapped both arms around her.
I looked away, and I didn’t approach. The moment belonged to them, after all.
Their relationship didn’t repair itself that afternoon.
It started again.
Luke had spent years believing family meant choosing one person over another.
There were supervised visits, then phone calls, birthdays, and eventually weekends.
I made one thing clear.
I wasn’t replacing Emma.
And Emma wasn’t competing with me.
Luke had spent years believing family meant choosing one person over another.
Months later, I found Luke outside repairing the porch step again.
