My name is Claire. I’m 37 years old… and I never imagined I would be a widow this early in life. Three weeks ago, I buried my husband, Daniel. We had been married for sixteen years. Together, we built what I truly believed was a simple, happy life. Six children, a warm home, routines that felt safe. Daniel was the kind of man people trusted. Reliable. Calm. The one who fixed things, paid bills on time, and never forgot birthdays. Every Saturday, he made pancakes with the kids. He always flipped them too early, but they loved him for it....
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