Chapter 3
Theo’s room gave me the next answer.
I found an empty shelf.
Not one.
Three.
The spaces were too clean.
I called my sister.
“Where are his toys?”
Elena looked uncomfortable.
“What toys?”
“The red airplane. The stuffed fox. The music box from my mother.”
Her face changed.
“Winifred said you removed them.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Over the last two months.”
I laughed once.
Quietly.
Of course.
Again.
My name used as permission.
“What reason?”
“She said Theo needed fewer distractions.”
I looked at the shelf.
The music box had belonged to my mother.
Theo played it before bed.
I had noticed he stopped asking for it.
I assumed he had lost interest.
Children do that.
Except sometimes they stop asking because adults teach them asking hurts.
“The fox?”
Elena swallowed.
“She said it was childish.”
“He’s three.”
“I know.”
“And the airplane?”
“She said he threw it.”
I turned.
“Did he?”
“No.”
Elena looked ashamed.
“She did.”
My jaw tightened.
Winifred had entered his room after he refused to kiss her goodnight.
She threw the airplane into the hallway.
Then removed it.
Punishment.
Not for bad behavior.
For refusing affection.
I went back outside.
Winifred was still in the garden room.
I placed the empty music-box key on the table.
Her face changed.
Small.
Enough.
“Where is it?”
She stared.
“What?”
“My mother’s music box.”
“You’re sentimental.”
“Where?”
Silence.
Anthony answered.
“Storage cellar.”
I looked at him.
“With what else?”
He swallowed.
“A box.”
“What box?”
“Things she took from Theo.”
Winifred snapped his name.
He stopped.
I looked at her.
“You kept them.”
No answer.
Important.
If her goal was teaching loss, why preserve every object?
She had not destroyed them.
She had collected them.
I went still.
This was not about making Theo less attached.
It was about teaching him who controlled what returned.
May you like
Loss was only half the lesson.
Winifred wanted to become the person who could give things back.
