CHAPTER 5 – THE BOX IN THE ATTIC
A year passed.
Stephanie's workshop had become a place of quiet healing.
Every Friday evening, parents who had lost children gathered to light handmade candles, share stories, and remember names that the world had slowly stopped saying.
One rainy afternoon, her mother appeared at the workshop carrying a dusty cardboard box.
"I found this in the attic," she said softly.
"It belonged to Emma."
Stephanie froze.
She had searched for that box after the funeral but had never found it.
With trembling hands, she lifted the lid.
Inside were dozens of drawings.
Birthday cards.
Tiny ballet shoes.
A faded stuffed rabbit.
And a notebook covered in glitter stickers.
Emma's diary.
Stephanie carefully opened the first page.
Today Grandma taught me how to bake cookies. She burned them, but we laughed anyway.
Another page.
I hope Grandma never forgets me when I'm big.
Mercedes covered her mouth and began to cry.
"I forgot where I put it," she whispered.
"I forgot... but I never meant to forget her."
Stephanie looked at the old woman.
May you like
For the first time in years...
she saw genuine regret instead of excuses.
