It had been five years since Clara lost her son. Five years since the light went out in her kitchen—the space where laughter once bounced off the tile and tiny fingers built soda-bottle rockets with wild ambition.
Robert had only been eleven.
He was full of questions and dreams far too big for his small frame. He loved the stars, pointed at constellations like he’d discovered them himself. Orion’s Belt, especially—his favorite. He’d tug at Clara’s sleeve, eyes wide with wonder, saying, “It’s there, Mommy. Just look.”
Clara had spent every day since his passing holding onto those memories. They had become the fabric of her being—the only way she knew to keep him near.
And then, during a quiet family gathering, her sister-in-law Amber shattered everything.
A Legacy Built on Love
Long before Robert was born, Clara and Martin had sat at the old oak table in his parents’ home, feeling overwhelmed and hopeful. Jay, Martin’s father, had slid an envelope across the table with a steady hand and a warm smile.
“A little head start,” he said. “So he won’t have to carry debt before his life begins.”
Clara had clutched the envelope like it might vanish. They hadn’t even finished the nursery, yet here was a man already believing in the child they hadn’t met.
Over the years, they added to the college fund quietly and consistently. Work bonuses. Birthday checks. Leftover refunds. The small things that, when pieced together, spoke volumes about love and commitment. That account didn’t just hold money—it held dreams. His dreams.
And when Robert died, they never touched a cent.
They couldn’t.
It sat in the account like an altar—sacred and still. Untouched not out of neglect, but reverence. Clara couldn’t bear to log in. Couldn’t bear to see a number with no child to spend it on.
Trying Again—and the Pain That Followed
Two years ago, Clara whispered a terrifying question into the quiet of their bedroom.
“You think it’s time to try again?”
Martin didn’t hesitate. “Only if you’re ready.”
She wasn’t.
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