He wanted my house.
Not only Daniel. His wife, Piper, wanted it too. They had been circling the idea since Marcus’s funeral, trying to sound gentle while clearly measuring the walls, the neighborhood, the value.
Marcus and I had never had children. It was a decision we made early in our marriage, discussed again more than once, and always returned to peacefully. We did not need children to prove our life was complete. We had each other. We had our work. We had built a life around what mattered to us, not what other people expected. FamilyLaw
Marcus had been an architect, and the house carried him everywhere.
Not in obvious ways, perhaps, but I could feel him in every room. The proportions, the light, the careful adjustments he had made over the years—all of it held his way of seeing the world.
