I thought I was driving to my late wife’s mountain house to finally let her go. Instead, I found two abandoned twin girls standing barefoot on the porch, clutching stale bread like it was the last thing keeping them alive. Minutes later, one of them whispered my wife’s name… and led me toward a hidden trail only Olivia had ever known.

I stood on the porch for a long time, the flashlight shaking violently in my hand.

The mist at the edge of the trail lingered for a few seconds, swirling gently around the old oak tree, before it slowly dissipated into the night air. The scent of blackberries faded, replaced once again by the smell of damp earth and old pine.

My knees finally gave out. I collapsed onto the top step of the porch, burying my face in my hands.

I didn’t know if I was losing my mind. I didn’t know if the grief had finally fractured my reality. But as I sat there in the dark, I felt a strange, warmth settle over my shoulders, like an oversized flannel shirt being draped over me on a cold night.

“Ethan?”

I looked up. The bedroom door had opened. Emma and Ella were standing there, watching me through the screen door.