Aftermath
Today my life is quiet.
I’ve turned Ernest’s shop into a garden, where I grow flowers to lay on his grave every Sunday.
Steven has become a dear friend.
People ask if I miss my sons.
I miss the children they were, but those children died long before Ernest did.
The men they became were strangers.
Justice didn’t bring my husband back, but it gave me peace.
On quiet nights, sitting on the porch, I swear I feel his presence — proud that I was strong enough to do the right thing, even when it meant losing my sons forever.
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