“Can you send letters?” Lily whispered.
“I wish,” he said. “But I’ll watch you from the sky. Until then, every minute I have is yours. Help me fill this house with so many good memories it never goes quiet again. Will you?”
“We’ll take care of you,” Sophie replied, “and you take care of us. That’s family.”
They made a list: beach, real birthday party, plant a tree, see snow, help Bea talk. They did it all—except the last item.
Meanwhile, Ryan’s lawyers pushed for an emergency hearing. The state argued Ethan’s home was now basically a hospice. A judge set a decision for the next morning. At nine, social workers would come to take the girls away and split them up.
That night, Ethan crashed.
His lungs failed. Monitors screamed. Adults ran. Upstairs, the girls heard the panic, and Grace’s terrible words: “It’s only a matter of time.”
In the middle of sobbing sisters, Sophie remembered Bea’s earlier whisper over a drawing of Ethan in bed surrounded by them:
“I know how to fix your heart, Daddy.”
Sophie stood. “The grown-ups gave up,” she said. “We don’t.”
They walked into the library.
Grace tried to stop them. Sophie’s calm reply—“This is the only time we have”—made her step aside.