Chapter 7: The Cottage by the Creek
Sarah handed Victor the keys to the small white cottage at the edge of town. It had been kept in care by the local community trust after Catherine passed away, untouched and preserved just as she had left it.
When Victor pushed the wooden door open, the soft golden light of the late afternoon sun filtered through thin lace curtains. The room was small, but every corner radiated warmth. On the wooden mantle stood small, framed sketches—drawings of Victor during his younger days, his laughter captured in charcoal lines.
In the corner sat a small wooden crib, carved by hand, with a small blanket folded neatly inside.
Lily ran over to the crib, touching the smooth wood. "Daddy, is this for a baby?"
"It was for you, sweetheart," Victor said, kneeling beside her. His hand traced the carved initials on the side of the crib: L.V.
He opened another letter from the envelope he carried everywhere:
May you like
Victor,
I carved a small crib today out of pine wood from the local mill. My hands are tired, but every time I stroke the wood, I think of how strong your hands are. I know you would have built her a palace. But I hope she knows this was built with every ounce of love I have left...
Victor pressed his forehead against the wooden edge of the crib. He realized that while his mother owned mansions and fortunes, Catherine had built a true home in this tiny cottage—a home rooted in unconditional love.
