She smiled warmly but seemed slightly weary, as though the weight of her son’s death had aged her beyond her years. Her once-vibrant eyes were now dimmed with sadness. “Emily,” Margaret said softly, embracing her. “It’s been too long.” “I know, Margaret. I’ve missed you,” Emily replied, her voice thick with emotion.
She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the familiar space. The house was quiet, too quiet. Luke’s absence lingered like a shadow. “Come on, sit down,” Margaret gestured toward the kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air. They spent the afternoon cooking together, a quiet ritual that had once been part of Emily’s life with Luke.