She went to her concerts.
She knew all of Emily’s friends by name.
She remembered rehearsals, projects, and school events.
My husband traveled constantly for work, so over time, Linda had become the person Emily depended on whenever neither of us was available.
I told myself I was thankful.
Sometimes, though, gratitude felt far too much like jealousy.
“You could come tomorrow,” Emily said.
I glanced toward my laptop.
“I have a deadline.”
Her expression shifted slightly.
“Maybe next time?”
“Definitely.”
She said nothing.
She simply leaned a little more firmly against my knee.
I had no idea that it would be the last time I ever touched her long hair.
The following afternoon, just after five, I was buried beneath emails when the front door opened.
“Hey! How was shopping?”
There was no answer.
I heard Emily rush across the floor toward the stairs.
When I walked out of the kitchen, I saw her.
