“Right there, sweetie,” Ethan said. “Where Mommy can see them beautifully.”
Lily nodded with that deep, solemn seriousness unique to children who understand the weight of love, even if they don’t fully comprehend the permanence of death. Lupita carefully set the vase down on the polished wood. One of the central roses was slightly bent at the stem, but it remained vibrant and intact.
Lily reached out a tiny finger, gently touching the petal. “This one looks really tired.”
Lupita knelt down to eye level with her, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “Sometimes, the tired flowers just need a little bit of fresh water and some time, and they’ll stand right back up.”
Ethan felt those words anchor themselves deep within his chest. As Lupita turned to quietly exit the suite and give them privacy, he called out to her. “Lupita, wait.”
She paused, looking back. “Yes, Ethan?”
