It Was Christmas When My Wife Died Giving Birth – Ten Years Later, a Stranger Came to My Door with a Devastating Demand

“But we make the same ones every year,” he said. “What if he wants variety?”

“We make them,” I said, “and then you eat half the dough before it ever hits the tray.”

That got a laugh out of him.

He shook his head and went back to building, his fingers moving with quiet focus. He hummed while he worked, not loudly, but just enough to fill the space around him. Katie used to hum like that, too.

Liam lived for patterns.

He liked routines, measurements, things that made sense. He liked knowing what came next, just like his mom.

“Come on, son,” I said, tilting my head toward the hallway. “It’s time to leave for school.”

Liam groaned, but he stood up and grabbed his backpack, shoving his lunch into it.

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