Seraphina's eyes softened with curiosity. She reached out but stopped. She felt shy of touching it, sensing its importance from Tim's voice.
Tim smiled faintly. "Go on. It's yours to look at."
She gently picked it up, inspecting the fine details. "Did Mommy dance?"
Tim's chest tightened at the innocent question. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"She used to, when she thought no one was watching," he said, his tone almost wistful. "Here, let me show you something else."
Taking her hand, he led her to the study. The heavy oak door creaked as it opened, revealing a sunlit room filled with more remnants of the past. On the desk lay a worn leather journal, its corners frayed from use. Tim picked it up and flipped through the pages, stopping at a small, pressed flower tucked inside.
"She wrote here, sometimes," Tim murmured. "So many things she wished happened but never happened."
His voice almost broke realizing how much he destroyed.
