Holding On to Memories
After Emily’s death, Liam lost his spark. He didn’t laugh the same, didn’t run to the door when someone knocked, and stopped asking for things the way children usually do. He simply… adjusted.
The only thing he clung to were his mother’s sweaters. Emily had knitted them herself, soft and faintly scented with the lavender detergent she loved. Liam kept them folded in a box in his room. Sometimes he would sit with them—not playing, not crying—just sitting.
About a year later, Daniel remarried a woman named Claire. I tried to give her a fair chance, but from the beginning, she made it clear: those sweaters didn’t belong in what she called “her” home. Daniel brushed it off.
“She’s adjusting.” “She’s not used to kids.” “Give her time.”
So I stayed quiet—for Liam’s sake.
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