The words halted Marcus completely. His chest tightened. He had locked away every photograph of his wife in an attempt to protect the boys from sorrow, but the truth was that he had been protecting himself. Rosie kept her gaze on him, steady, urging him not to shut down.
He exhaled slowly. “She loved the night sky. She knew the constellations by heart.”
The boys leaned forward. “Can you show us?” Milo asked.
Marcus nodded before he could think of work or meetings or obligations. “Tonight. If the clouds behave. We’ll use the telescope in the study.”
Their excitement lit the room brighter than the sunbeams coming through the window.
The following weeks brought gradual change. Marcus worked from home with the study door open, allowing the natural chaos of childhood to seep into the quiet spaces he once guarded too fiercely. Rosie managed the household with calm efficiency, teaching the boys kindness and responsibility. She treated them not as fragile heirs but as children learning to navigate the world.
One rainy afternoon he found her shelving books in the library.
“You’re teaching them to pray,” he said.