“Valerie, these are Nina’s photos,” Henry said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you have them?”
Valerie walked over, her fingers tracing the edges of the photograph. “Nina was a dear friend, someone who meant the world to me and to you. I wanted to keep her memory alive, to honor the bond we shared.”
Henry felt a surge of emotion, the weight of his grief and longing pressing down on him. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The way you talk, the way you care—it’s like she’s still here, through you.”
Valerie nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “In a way, yes. I carry a piece of Nina within me. Being here is my way of ensuring that her spirit continues to watch over those she loved.”
Henry approached her, the lines of worry etched on his face softening with each step.
