Now Charlie sleeps on Emily’s bed every night.
I keep the bed made the way she liked it—her blanket folded neatly, her pillow fluffed, her favorite stuffed rabbit still tucked beside it.
Sometimes Charlie rests his head there like he’s still waiting for her.
I carry Emily’s letter in my pocket everywhere I go.
Every morning I read it again.
And every day I try to become the person she somehow already believed I could be.
I will spend the rest of my life grateful for the kindness and golden heart of the stepdaughter I didn’t deserve.
