*Rory*
Two weeks later
Maisy and her children live in the warm suite above the kitchens now, where the sun spills in every morning and the fire never goes out. The kids have taken to castle life faster than anyone expected, chasing each other through the corridors, sneaking honeyed oatcakes from the pantry.
Cait says she sees Maisy smile a little more each day. She carries her grief like something sacred, not something shattered. We often find her with her youngest asleep in her arms, staring into the flames with a quiet strength that makes something in my chest ache.
None of us are the same people we were before the battle. Loss has a way of reshaping things. But in the wreckage it left behind, new threads have formed—connections, routines, small joys we didn’t expect. Life is sti
