I stood at the entrance, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. A hand gently patted my hand.

It was Mr. Jensen.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m here with you,” Mr. Jensen said, his voice different from my father's, but it stirred a strong urge to cry within me.

After my divorce from Aubrey, I hadn't planned on remarrying. I was content living in the small house with just my father’s memory. Frederick often came by to reminisce about my father, cooked meals for me—though they were not great, he put in a lot of effort. Even I, who am usually slow to catch on, could feel his intentions.

Frederick was...