Memories of our lost daughter
As Olivia turned another page, she paused at a picture of our late daughter. “Who’s this?” she asked innocently, pointing at the faded photo.
My heart tightened, a familiar ache resurfacing. My wife sat beside Olivia, leaning in closer. “That was your sister,” she explained, voice gentle.
Olivia’s eyes widened. “Wow, she looks like me,” she observed. There was truth in her words, one we had quietly noticed too.