Aurora was asleep in Elara’s arms when Marcus arrived.


He moved slowly, carefully, like the moment itself was too sacred to rush. When Elara opened the door, he didn’t speak at first—just stared down at the bundle in her arms, his lips trembling.


“She looks like you did,” he whispered.


Elara stepped aside so he could enter. “Would you like to hold her?”


Marcus nodded, but tears spilled before he could reach her. “I don’t want to cry on her.”


“She won’t mind,” Elara said gently. “She’s already made both of us cry this week.”


They laughed, and the tension broke. Elara passed Aurora to him, guiding his arms with tender precision.


Marcus held his granddaughter as if she were made of light. “Hi, little one,” he said softly. “I’m the man who will love you forever and protect you like I did your mom.”


Elara looked on, a sudden wave of emotion swelling in her chest. She’d grown up believing her family had gaps too wide to fill—but watching Marcus cradle Aurora, she saw something healing in the way he touched her. Something whole.



---


Later, after Michael had gone to the store and Aurora had fallen asleep again, Elara and Marcus sat in the kitchen with cups of tea between them.


“I think I’m finally starting to understand what you felt,” Elara said. “When Mom left. When you had to do it alone.”


Marcus nodded slowly. “And now you know that love doesn’t make it easier. Just... worth it.”


Elara hesitated. “Do you think she knew she’d leave? Before she had me?”


He didn’t answer right away. “I used to ask myself that. Every night for years. But I stopped searching for the answer when I realized it wouldn’t change what I had. What we had. Her leaving didn’t define us. What we chose to build did.”


Elara looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug.


“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Of doing it wrong. Of repeating something.”


“You’re already doing it differently,” Marcus said. “You stayed. You’re showing up. That’s what matters.”



---


That night, after Marcus left, Elara wrote again.


"Dear Aurora—

Today your grandfather held you,

and I saw my past and future meet.

Not all legacies are burdens.

Some are gifts, passed down like lullabies.

We choose what we inherit.

And I choose love."