Chapter 1

Coming home from the farmer's market, I didn't stop for a second, washing vegetables and cooking dinner.

Just as I finished, Daniel pushed open the door.

"Stella's pipe burst, you should go help her. It's tough for a single mom."

I didn't even wipe the sweat from my brow before heading to her place to unclog the drain, clean up the standing water, and comfort her frightened child…

By the time I dragged my exhausted body back home, I saw Daniel handing my daughter’s sweater to Stella.

"Stella, don't feel bad about it. Lily can't wear it anymore anyway, so it's perfect for Lucy."

I stared at that sweater and a sudden, bitter laugh escaped me.

"Daniel Miller, let's get a divorce."

He looked at me, utterly incredulous.

"For an old sweater?"

"Yes, for an old sweater."

My words hung in the air, and a long silence fell over the living room.

Daniel's face darkened.

"Amelia, why are you being so dramatic again?"

He walked over, reaching out to brush away the damp strands of hair stuck to my forehead, but I turned my head, dodging his touch.

His hand froze mid-air, a flicker of impatience crossing his face.

"Alright, I know you're still thinking about Lily, but she's been gone for so long now. We have to move forward."

He lowered his voice, gesturing towards Stella, who stood awkwardly to the side.

"You know Stella's situation. It's just a piece of clothing. If we can help, we should. Don't give people something to talk about."

Stella immediately handed the sweater back to me, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with apology.

"Amelia, I'm so sorry. I didn't know this sweater was so important to you. Daniel meant well, please don't blame him. We don't need this sweater."

But Daniel pushed the sweater back into her arms, his tone sharp.

"Take it! Amelia just gets this way, she bottles things up, she'll be fine in a bit."

He then turned to me, a slight frown creasing his brows.

"Go clean up. You're covered in dirt, don't you mind stinking up the place for others?"

"Dinner's cold. Hurry up and bring it out. Stella and Lucy haven't eaten yet."

I didn't move, my gaze locked on that sweater.

In his world, this was indeed a trivial matter.

A piece of clothing, a neighbor, a perfectly logical act of kindness.

He couldn't understand, and he didn't want to understand, what that sweater meant to me.

My strength drained away, but I spoke again.

"I want a divorce."

Daniel's patience finally snapped.

"Amelia Stone, have you lost your mind?! You want to destroy our family over an old, unworn sweater? Do you really think Lily in heaven would find peace with you acting like this?!"

"It's not just an old sweater."

I fought back the ache in my throat, looking into his eyes, trying to make him understand.

"It was Lily's. I knitted it for her with my own hands."

"I know it was Lily's! A relic!"

He raised his voice.

"But the dead can't come back to life! What's the point of holding onto things? You spend all your time clutching those old things, locking yourself in the past. What's the meaning in that?"

"I gave the sweater to Lucy hoping it would be useful, and hoping it would help you move on! I'm doing this for your own good!"

My throat constricted, a bitter ache spreading down my gullet.

"Daniel Miller, you never once asked me."

He whirled around, glaring at me.

"Ask you? Would you have agreed? You'd turn her room into a shrine, a museum, and yourself into a living ghost! I can't just stand by and watch you like this!"

His words sliced through me like sharp knives, one after another.

Yes, I had carefully kept all of Lily's things.

Her drawings, her tiny hair clips, the shoes she wore, even the tissues she used – all sealed in storage bins in the attic.

But that sweater, I couldn't bear to put it away.

On countless sleepless nights, I held that sweater, feeling the faint remnants of her scent, and that was how I barely made it through.

It wasn't just a piece of clothing; it was my solace.

He didn't understand, and he never tried to.

He just thought I was sick, and he needed to fix me.