Maren had always known it would be like this. The first time she held her daughter, tiny and pink and furious at the world, she knew. Because when the baby blinked up at her, she wasn’t looking at Maren. She was looking at him.

Those were Lee’s eyes. The same storm-grey, restless even before they had reason to be. As she grew, it only became clearer. The sharp angles of her cheekbones, the stubborn set of her jaw. When she frowned, Maren swore she could see Lee in the doorway again, arms crossed, waiting for her to give in.

And then there was the temper.

Her daughter was fire wrapped in soft curls and mismatched socks, always daring the world to push her. If someone told her no, she’d climb higher, run faster, laugh louder. She once scraped both knees bloody falling off a neighbor’s fence — stood up, chin tipped, and told Maren, “I didn’t cry, Mommy. Daddy wouldn’t have cried.”

Maren had no answer for that. Just scooped her up, pressed a kiss to her curls, and blinked back the ache.

But it wasn’t all recklessness. Sometimes, in the quiet, she’d curl beside Maren on the couch, tracing the birthmark on her mother’s cheek, whispering questions about the father she’d never meet.

“Was Daddy brave?”

Maren always answered yes. Because even though the world had taken him too soon, even though hunger and fear had carved both their lives into something jagged, he had loved fiercely. And that love lived on, right here, in the girl with his eyes.

She glanced around their apartment — the uneven stacks of books on the coffee table, the hum of the old fridge, the faint smell of rain still drifting in from the cracked window. It was all so ordinary, and yet it was everything she had fought for. A place where her daughter could be herself without looking over her shoulder.

“Tell me another story about him. One you’ve never told me before.”

Maren’s breath caught. She opened the door, letting the cool air in, and leaned against the frame.

“Alright,” she said softly, nodding toward the steps. “But only if you sit still this time.”

Her daughter grinned, dropping down cross-legged at Maren’s feet, eyes wide and waiting.

And for a moment, it felt like Lee was there too — listening, just as hungry for the story.