I lost my wife the day our triplets were born—ten years later, we found a box on our porch labeled, “To my beautiful daughters. Love, Mom.”

pressed the paper to her chest.

She was the one who measured herself against Chloe’s bravery and Ivy’s quiet confidence.

“Flowers don’t bloom together. Neither do people.”

Ivy waited the longest.

Then she read in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Notice lonely people before they ask to be noticed. Most of them won’t ask.”

She cried silently, the way she had continue reading …