At first, nothing felt right.
Grace cried herself to sleep every night for the first month. She kept Mary's scarf under her pillow, clutching it so tightly that the fabric began to fray. Every time Becky tucked her into bed, Grace turned her face to the wall and whispered, "You're not my mum."
Caleb didn't understand much, only that something was different. He often toddled up to Becky with his arms raised, calling her "Mummy" by mistake. The moment the word left his lips, Grace would snap at him, her little face red with anger.
"Don't call her that! Mummy is Mummy!"
Caleb would cry, confused, and run to Daniel, who had to hold him until he calmed.
Joshua, being the eldest, carried the heaviest weight. He tried to act strong, keeping his feelings buried so the younger ones wouldn't crumble. But at night, Daniel often found him sitting alone on the porch, staring at the stars.
"Do you miss her?" Joshua once asked quietly, his voice almost swallowed by the night.
Daniel's throat tightened. "Every day."
Joshua nodded, his jaw clenched. "Me too."
Becky, for her part, moved gently through their lives. She never tried to take Mary's place. When Grace lashed out, she didn't respond in anger. When Caleb stumbled toward her, she lifted him with care but never corrected him. She simply let the children set the pace, patient as water carving stone.
One afternoon, weeks later, Grace fell ill with a fever. She refused food, refused medicine, crying only for her mother. Daniel paced the room in frustration, helplessness pulling at his chest.
It was Becky who sat by Grace's side through the night, cooling her forehead with damp cloths, humming softly until the girl finally slept. Daniel stood at the door, watching. Something inside him softened - not love yet, not even full trust, but gratitude for the steadiness she brought.
The next morning, Grace opened her eyes weakly and whispered, "Thank you." It wasn't much, but it was a crack in the wall she had built.
Caleb adjusted first, his young heart open and eager. Joshua took longer, weighed down by memory and loyalty. And Grace - Grace clung to Mary in every way she could, but slowly, painfully, she began to allow Becky's kindness into the empty spaces her mother had left.
The house was not the same. It would never be the same. But day by day, laughter returned in small bursts - Caleb's giggles, Joshua's jokes, Grace's soft singing.
And though the ache of absence lingered in all of them, Daniel knew one thing: they were healing. Not forgetting, never forgetting - but learning to live again.