After burying her eight-year-old daughter, Lily, Ashley returned home, consumed by grief. But something in her backyard pulled her out of her sorrow and into an unexpected mystery.
I thought I was ready to say goodbye, but I wasn’t. The pain was unbearable. Lily was gone, and I couldn’t imagine life without her.
It had only been a week since we laid her to rest. The days before her passing were a blur of hospital visits, whispered prayers, and the slow loss of her laughter. At her funeral, I drifted through, barely recognizing the faces around me, my heart heavy with grief.
As the mourners left, offering condolences, I could only focus on the empty chair where Lily should have been. The drive home was quiet. Silence seemed the only thing that matched the depth of my sorrow.
When I pulled into the driveway, something caught my eye—a brightly colored tent in the backyard. My heart raced. It looked like a circus tent, completely out of place. I got out of the car, my legs trembling. Who would put a tent in my yard, especially today?
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