he died,” she said quietly. “Including that I needed a heart.”
“And he chose you?”
Her hand returned to her chest.
“Yes. He did.”
For months, I’d believed that losing Ethan meant my job was to cling to every piece of him I could.
But looking at Lily, I finally understood something my son had understood before me.
Love wasn’t always about holding on.
Sometimes love meant deciding what could keep living after you finally let go.
