I FOUND TINY CHILDREN’S SHOES ON MY LATE HUSBAND’S GRAVE EVERY TIME I VISITED.

Paul and I never had children. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake—a grieving parent finding comfort in placing shoes at the wrong grave—but deep down, I couldn’t understand the feeling that something wasn’t right.

My sadness turned into anger. Who was doing this? Was it joke?

Finally, I saw her. She was sitting beside the grave, gently placing a pair of small brown sandals next to the growing collection. Her long, dark hair swayed in the breeze as she carefully arranged them, her movements slow and purposeful.

“Hey! You!”

She surprised but didn’t run. Instead, she stood slowly.

It was Maya – Paul’s old secretary. She had always been warm and cheerful, but the woman standing before me now seemed burdened with a sorrow I recognized all too well.