“I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured, the sincerity in his tone catching Elise off guard. She thanked him, surprised by how deeply his simple words landed, as if he understood a specific kind of absence she hadn’t named. It was easy talking to him because he listened so attentively.
“My grandmother was warm,” Elise said, “but private. She shared stories about raising my dad, but anything before that felt… carefully preserved. She’d smile when we asked, but she never offered details. We stopped pressing after a while. She had undergone a lot through the war, lost family.”