Jakob was different.
He laughed louder. Slept deeper. Drew pictures that weren’t haunted.
But Orla wasn’t fooled.
Healing came in layers. And trauma had a way of hiding in the quiet moments.
She watched him from the kitchen window as he ran barefoot through the grass, arms out like wings.
Stanley wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.
“You’re holding your breath again.”
Orla nodded. “I keep waiting for something to crack.”
Stanley kissed her shoulder. “Nothing’s going to crack. You built him too strong.”
She looked back out the window.
“But I didn’t build him alone.”
Clara’s body was claimed two days later.
No next of kin.
No funeral.
Just a legal envelope delivered to Orla’s name.
Stanley opened it.
His face shifted in quiet horror.
Orla took the papers from his h
