My six-year-old nephew crawled to my door with a broken leg while his three-year-old sister clung to his shirt, sobbing

That evening, after the birthday party guests had left and the sun had dipped below the horizon, I walked up the stairs to the children's wing of the estate.

The hallway was warm, filled with the soft glow of nightlights.

I pushed open the door to Leo’s room.

The walls were painted a soft blue, decorated with framed posters of rockets and planets. A large wooden telescope sat beside the window, pointed toward the night sky.

Leo was sitting up in his bed, wearing superhero pajamas, reading a book under a small reading lamp.

Beside his bed, Maya was already fast asleep in her little canopy bed, her favorite stuffed bear tucked securely under her arm.

I walked over softly, sitting on the edge of Leo’s mattress.

"Time to sleep, buddy," I said gently, reaching out to close his book.

Leo looked up at me, his eyes bright and clear. "Uncle Thomas?"

"Yes, Leo?"

"Do you ever miss Daddy?"

The question was simple, but it hit me deep in my chest. I looked at the small framed photograph sitting on Leo’s nightstand—a picture of Ethan laughing on a fishing trip we had taken five years ago.

"I miss him every day, Leo," I answered honestly, smoothing back his hair. "He was my little brother. But every time I look at you and Maya, I see him smiling back at me."

Leo smiled warmly, leaning back against his pillows. "Daddy told me once that if anything ever happened, you would come for us. He said you were the strongest man in the world."

My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed back the emotion threatening to break through my composure.

"Your father was the strong one, Leo," I whispered, pulling the soft quilt up to his chin. "He had the courage to do what was right, no matter what. I'm just making sure his work is finished."