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.”

“We had birthday cake yesterday,” Ivy said with a shy smile. “We thought you might like some.”

Her face softened instantly.

As we walked home a few minutes later, the maple box rested quietly beneath my arm.

Her face softened instantly.

For ten years, I had told myself my daughters had grown up without their mother.

Watching them notice someone before she continue reading …