She hesitated, then said softly, “Because that’s where she still is. The part of her that never left you.”
I froze, confused, but somehow… calm. Nora stepped back, tears in her eyes.
“She’s not gone,” she said. “I kept what you couldn’t — the things that still remember her. I thought you’d hate me if you found out.”
I didn’t know what to say. The house felt warm suddenly, like sunlight had slipped through every crack.
I didn’t open the box. I didn’t need to.
For the first time since my mother’s death, I didn’t feel alone anymore.
