“You bet,” I said. “And maybe we’ll see dolphins.”
For the first time, I felt something that wasn’t just grief.
Hope.
We checked into a beachfront hotel. Days became routine: sunscreen, towels, waves, ice cream, bedtime stories.
I watched Luke splash in the water, laughing like his body remembered how to be a child even if his heart didn’t.
I almost forgot the pain.
Almost.
On our third day, I was staring out at the ocean, lost in thought, when Luke came running toward me like he’d just found treasure.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
I smiled automatically. “What is it?”
He pointed toward the beach crowd, breathless with excitement.
“Dad,” he said, eyes wide. “Look… Mom’s back!”
My blood ran cold.
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