The boys slid off her back when they saw him, instinctively protective of this fragile joy. Derek stood frozen, unsure whether to move or to speak, overwhelmed by gratitude, awe, and a pang of shame. Clara’s eyes met his. They were wide with worry, as though she feared she had overstepped. But Derek only nodded once, a small acknowledgment of the miracle she had brought into their lives.
Later, Derek sat alone in his office, unable to sleep. The laughter played over and over in his mind, a stark contrast to the emptiness that had dominated the house for months. How had she done it? He thought of every book he’d read, every psychologist he’d hired, every attempt to reconstruct normalcy. None of it had worked until Clara arrived. Her application had been simple, almost naïve. Twenty-eight years old, no formal training beyond some local references, and a handwritten note that said, “I understand loss. I will not run from it.”