Their home smelled like cinnamon. Clara greeted me kindly but cautiously, unsure whether I came with love or resentment. She seemed gentle, with soft eyes that brightened whenever she looked at Nick.
Then Lea came running into the room, chocolate on her cheek, crayons in her hand. When Nick introduced me as her aunt, she smiled with the same dimple I have. “Do you wanna draw with me?” she asked.
We spent the afternoon coloring. Clara made grilled cheese sandwiches, and Nick watched us quietly, probably afraid I’d leave and never return.
But I stayed.
Healing What Was Broken
Over the next few weeks, I visited often. What once felt foreign slowly became familiar. Lea began calling me “Auntie A.” Clara shared stories about her baking dreams. Nick seemed happier than he’d been in years.Continue reading…
