The morning light catches the glass of the picture frame, making my parents' faces seem almost alive. I take it from Chloe's hands, my fingers trembling slightly as I trace the edges of the photograph.
"I had this restored recently," I tell her, my voice barely steady. "The original was damaged in the... aftermath."
Chloe leans closer, studying the image with me. My father stands tall and proud in his expensive suit, one hand resting on my shoulder. My mother beside him, elegant in a emerald dress that brings out her eyes. She's smiling that warm, gentle smile I remember so well.
"Your mother was beautiful," Chloe says softly. "You have her eyes."
I nod, unable to speak for a moment. The grief is still there, sharp as ever, but now it's mixed with something else. Hope. Terrible, desperate hope that makes my chest tight.
"She was everything to me," I finally manage. "They both were."
