“I’ve been coming here every year,” Richard admitted. “Leaving flowers for the son we lost.”
Linda fell to her knees in front of the grave, touching the stone with trembling fingers. “I didn’t even get to name him,” she whispered.
She stopped questioning Noah’s parentage and stopped trying to find fault in every little thing I did.
Instead, she focused on healing herself and the relationships she’d nearly destroyed.
One afternoon, months later, I found her sitting in Noah’s room, watching him play. But this time, there was no suspicion in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, “for not giving up on our family, even when I gave you every reason to.”
I sat down beside her, watching my son stack his blocks with determined concentration.
“Family isn’t just about DNA,” I replied. “You of all people should know that now.”
She nodded, wiping away a tear. “I do. I really do.”
And for the first time since I’d married Eric, I felt like I finally had a real mother-in-law. I felt lucky to have a woman who understood that love is what truly makes a family.
