Emily arrived at Luke’s mother’s house late that afternoon, her stomach in knots. She hadn’t been to the house since Luke’s funeral. It felt strange to be there again, but she pushed the feeling aside. She had to know the truth. Emily stood outside Margaret’s house, her heart heavy with the burden of everything she had just learned.
George, the man she had met on the cruise, looked so much like Luke, it was impossible to ignore. Her mind swirled with questions, but one thing felt clear: she had to talk to Margaret. The house was quiet when Emily knocked, the door opening to reveal Margaret’s frail form.
She smiled warmly but seemed slightly weary, as though the weight of her son’s death had aged her beyond her years. Her once-vibrant eyes were now dimmed with sadness. “Emily,” Margaret said softly, embracing her. “It’s been too long.” “I know, Margaret. I’ve missed you,” Emily replied, her voice thick with emotion.
She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the familiar space. The house was quiet, too quiet. Luke’s absence lingered like a shadow. “Come on, sit down,” Margaret gestured toward the kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air. They spent the afternoon cooking together, a quiet ritual that had once been part of Emily’s life with Luke.
As they prepared a simple meal, the two women fell into an easy rhythm, but Emily’s thoughts were far away. After dinner, as they sat down to eat, Emily couldn’t hold back any longer. She began telling Margaret everything that had happened on the cruise—the man who looked like Luke, the confusion, the shock.
She recounted the argument, the tears, and the moment when George had revealed his name. She told Margaret how she couldn’t stop thinking about it, how George seemed to have the same laugh, the same posture, the same warmth as Luke. Margaret had been listening intently, her face unreadable.