Josiah
The cool air around the tombs carried the scent of earth, of stone, of something sacred. I had not planned on finding her here. I had not planned on my feet leading me past the lanterns that lined the path or through the wrought-iron gate that marked the resting place of those who came and left before us. But when I saw her slender frame bent before the marble slab, a bouquet of wildflowers trembling in her hands, all my resolve collapsed.
Mia.
Her voice was soft, quivering, as she spoke to her mother’s grave. The words were not meant for me, yet each syllable seemed to pierce straight through my chest. She told her mother she was all right now. She said she had found care, safety, and belonging in and with the twins. She said her mother could finally rest, could finally be rebor
