Butcher took Sameer from Victoria, and in all honesty she didn’t know when (or if) she’d ever recover. He was her beginning, her blueprint, the foundation that made everything make sense. They built everything together, spent all their time alive loving each other, building a future that no longer existed. And now all of it is gone, reduced to a distant memory and vengeance she was too exhausted to carry out.

The fog of grief was so thick that she didn’t realize how long she’d been surviving instead of living, but the first time she noticed the world again was because of you.

She remembers Zoe asking for your help with her homework, a harsh reminder that Victoria had been too checked out to notice her daughter struggling. She also didn’t know that you were an expert at teaching 6th-grade Algebra, or that you had been quietly stepping in where she couldn’t: cleaning the house when she forgot to care, making sure Zoe and she eat well, showing time and time again without asking for anything in return. You didn’t make her feel guilty for falling apart, picking up the pieces where she couldn’t, and giving her family the space to grieve without judgment.

And somewhere along the line she stopped feeling broken all the time, finding herself smiling and laughing when she couldn’t fathom ever being happy again. The grief doesn’t completely vanish, but you dulled the edges so it no longer drowns her. 

And this morning isn’t any different, like another thread weaving the impossible back together.

You dropped Zoe off at school for her, coming back with a warm bagel sandwich. She didn’t even remember telling you about the new coffee shop, but clearly you do. Her hands reach to undo the wrapper even if she’s talking about how you “didn’t need to do that”. But her eyes widen when she takes a bite, groaning softly in approval.  

“Actually I take that back, this is incredible.” She says with mouth half full, lips curling into the first genuine smile she’s worn all morning.