Shards of the past

She walked to the door and stood by it for some time, watching Sophie. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You should see your uncle before you go to bed.”

Her back turned against the girl immediately, and she did not see the tear that rolled down her cheeks or the rage that attacked her. But she knew, just as she has always known, of the tears that fell when her back was turned.

***

The room that Sophie’s aunt gave him reminded him greatly of his mother. And as he lay in the old bed, she was all he could think of.

The weight of his mother's absence hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with each passing moment. He could still hear her laughter and feel the warmth of her embrace, but they were fading echoes, distant ghosts from the past. The ache in his chest grew unbearable, a constant reminder of the void he yearned to feel.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling him back to reality. He turned, his heart skipping a beat, as Sophie appeared in the doorwa