One afternoon, when the house was quiet and the sun was high in the sky, I decided to visit Lucas and Elena. As I walked down the hallway toward their room, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Inside, Elena was busy changing the sheets once more. She hadn’t noticed my presence, so I lingered by the doorway, hesitant to intrude. It was then that I saw it—the corner of a small, weathered scrapbook peeking out from beneath her pillow.

I gently knocked on the door frame, and Elena turned with a start, her cheeks flushing with surprise and a hint of embarrassment. “Oh, Mother, I didn’t see you there,” she said, hurriedly tucking the scrapbook away.