The following days did not fix everything overnight.

Grief doesn’t work that way.

Ezoic
But something had changed within us, almost imperceptibly at first, like a window ajar in a room that had remained closed for too long.

Every morning, the kittens would stir before the sun had fully risen. Their soft meows served as a gentle wake-up call, rousing me from sleep without fear for the first time in weeks. I would sit up slowly, listening, remembering where I was and why I was waking up.

Then I breathed.

Ezoic.
Taking care of them gave rhythm to the hours. Meal times. Clean towels. Observing these stages, so small yet so important. When their eyes opened, when they learned to stand, when they fell clumsily on top of each other.

Baxter never missed a crumb.

He treated the basket like a sacred place, lying nearby as if it were his duty to guard it. If one of the kittens meowed, he would come running immediately. If the mother cat moved away, he would follow her at a respectful distance.

Ezoic
Daniel noticed it too.

« She’s the one who trained him, » he said one afternoon, watching Baxter gently nudge a kitten back towards the basket.

I nodded. « I think she did. »

Ezoic.
We started talking more. Not about everything. Not all at once. But we talked about Lily without it tearing us apart. We shared little memories. Her laugh. The way she sang off-key. The little notes she left lying around the house.

The grief was still there, heavy and real, but it no longer occupied all the space.

One evening, Daniel surprised me by asking if we could go back to the shed together.

Ezoic
We remained there, silent, side by side, the air fresh and still. He ran his hand along the warped wooden wall, his gaze lingering on the corner where the nest was.

« She must have been proud, » he said softly. « Helping them. Keeping a secret like that. »

« She always did, » I replied. « She liked knowing she had an impact. »

Ezoic.
We cleared the space together, not because it was still necessary, but because it felt right. Like closing a chapter gently, instead of slamming it shut.

At home, Lily’s room began to change little by little.

Not erased. Not filed away.

Ezoic,
but softened.

I framed her sunflower drawing and hung it above her desk. I moved the string lights so they cast a soft glow instead of twinkling in the dark. Sometimes I would sit in her chair and write letters I never intended to send.

Thanks.

Ezoic
Apologies.

Accounts of the day.

The bracelet she made stayed on my wrist, worn but still strong. A reminder that love doesn’t have to be over to matter.

Ezoic.
The friends started coming again. Carefully. Respectfully. They brought food, flowers, a discreet presence. At the sight of the kittens, their faces softened.

« Lily would have loved that, » they said.

And each time, I answered honestly.

Ezoic:
« She did it. »

Weeks passed. The kittens grew. Their personalities emerged: bold and curious, gentle and cautious. We found good homes for two of them, who promised to keep us updated and send photos.

The third one stayed.

Ezoic
The cat stayed too.

That seemed like the right choice to me.

Daniel named her Sunny.

Aesoic.
I didn’t ask why. I didn’t need to.

Some evenings, sadness returned with force. There were moments when the silence still hurt me, when a laugh in a supermarket aisle took me by surprise, when a child’s yellow sweater seen in public made my chest ache.

But now, when those moments came, I had a place to store them.

Ezoic.
I sat on the floor with Sunny and her kitten. I stroked Baxter’s fur. I opened Lily’s sketchbook.

I remembered her not as someone I had lost, but as someone who had been there.

One evening, as the sun was setting and the house was filled with a soft light, Daniel and I were sitting side by side on the sofa. The kitten was asleep, snuggled between us. Baxter’s head was resting on Daniel’s foot.

Ezoic
« I don’t feel broken right now, » he said softly.

I held out my hand to him. « Me neither. »

We didn’t pretend that everything was fine.

Azoic.
But we knew we would be.

Later that evening, I stood by the window again, the yellow sweater folded in my hands. It no longer felt heavy. It had meaning.

« I see it now, » I murmured into the silent room. « What you left us. »

Azoic.
Outside, the world was calm. Inside, life breathed gently around me.

Love had found a way to endure.

And slowly, gently, we learned to live with it.