Maeve’s grief came with jagged edges. Losing her mother in the crash was horrific enough without the added betrayal of her own unreliable memories. For weeks she’d believed the drunk driver took everything from her, until the courtroom’s harsh lights revealed the terrifying blank spots in her recollection – the moments proving she’d been driving that night.
Thomas’s house should have been the last place she found solace. The father who disappeared from her childhood, the stepmother trying too hard, the half-brother she refused to acknowledge – none of them could replace what she’d lost. Yet when her guilt threatened to drown her, it was Thomas who pulled her back, Julia who kept offering warmth, even baby Ethan who persisted in reaching for her with unconditional trust.
The mural started as idle distraction – something to fill the empty hours. But as Maeve painted stars above Ethan’s crib, she realized healing wasn’t about forgetting her mother or forgiving herself. It was about making space for both the love she lost and the unexpected love still within reach, one fragile connection at a time.
