Ethan’s throat closed. It had been eight months since the accident. Eight months since the woman who’d painted their world with laughter and lullabies was gone. He still hadn’t figured out how to answer that question without his voice breaking.

“I think she already does,” he said finally, brushing a strand of hair from Lily’s face. “She’s watching you right now, cheering for you. You’re going to be amazing.”

Lily nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave his. “Can you come in with me?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice steady though his heart was anything but.

Inside the school, everything smelled like crayons, soap, and something sweetly nostalgic — the scent of childhood beginnings. Ethan followed Lily down the hallway, their footsteps echoing softly. She held his hand tightly, her little pink lunchbox bumping against her knee with every step.