When my mother died, I didn’t just lose a parent.I inherited a life I hadn’t planned for—and two fragile hearts that suddenly depended on mine. Six months earlier, I had been a 25-year-old structural engineer with spreadsheets, deadlines, and a future neatly arranged. A wedding was on the horizon. A honeymoon in Maui was half paid. My fiancée, Jenna, had already started talking about baby names and paint colors for a nursery that didn’t yet exist. Life wasn’t easy, but it was legible. “James, you work too much,” Jenna used to say, handing me another vitamin bottle. “I’m proud of...
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