Chapter 8 - THREE YEARS
Vincent was gone for three years.
We wrote.
Not every day.
That mattered.
I built a life rather than putting mine on hold.
I became CEO of Marlowe Logistics after the board restructured it.
We removed the family name two years later.
Evan went back to school.
Law.
Of all things.
He said someone in the family should learn how laws worked before breaking them.
My mother declined.
Some days she knew me.
Some days she didn't.
Then came the afternoon that broke me.
She looked at my face and asked:
“Are you Isabella?”
“No, Mom.”
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“My Claire.”
I cried.
She touched my cheek.
“Did he choose better?”
I understood.
Vincent.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Mom frowned.
I smiled.
“We both did.”
She seemed satisfied.
She died peacefully six weeks later.
Vincent wasn't there.
But a letter arrived the morning after the funeral.
Only one paragraph.
I know you hate lilies. I know you hate people telling you to be strong when you have no choice. So I won't send flowers, and I won't tell you to be strong. I will only tell you that if grief feels heavy, you don't have to make it useful. You are allowed to miss her.
I read it twenty times.
Evan sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
Sometimes family is the person you once refused to marry sitting beside you while you cry over the woman you both lost in different ways.
May you like
Life gets strange.
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