Chapter 562

Chapter 562:

After dinner, Selma and Ector settled into the living room to watch TV. Erika and Amber went upstairs to chat with friends, while Kevin lost himself in gaming, and Crowell sat glued to his phone, looking suspiciously busy.

Fernanda, however, felt a sudden longing for Hiram. She pulled out an old photo of him.

The elderly man in the picture radiated kindness, his gentle smile still vivid in her memory.

Fernanda thought back to the Christmases she’d spent with Hiram as a child. He’d always find a way to buy her a new outfit, saying, “Other girls get Christmas…

“Hiram always said, ‘She deserves presents; my girl should have them too.’” Even when his own clothes were threadbare and his socks were carefully patched, he made sure Fernanda had something new and special.

Later, when Fernanda became financially stable, she and Hiram moved to town. She bought him plenty of clothes, but he rarely wore them, carefully storing each item in his wardrobe. “I’ll save them for special occasions,” he would explain. Yet many of those clothes remained unworn.

A lifetime of hardship had shaped him. Even as his circumstances improved, his frugality endured. Fernanda still remembered how every Christmas Hiram would bake cookies, preparing them with care but never letting himself eat a single one. He saved them all for her. Watching her delight as she ate, he would smile warmly and gently pat her head.

Despite his modest lifestyle, Hiram always gave Fernanda the best he could afford. She often marveled that someone could be so selfless—treating a child with no blood relation as if she were his own.

Whenever Fernanda felt resentment toward her family or at the unfairness of fate, she thought of Hiram. His unwavering kindness reminded her that goodness still existed.

She sat in quiet reflection, staring at Hiram’s photograph, until a loud bang outside startled her—it was fireworks. Turning toward the large living-room window, she saw colorful bursts lighting the night sky.

Gently touching the photo, a small smile formed on her lips. Then she rose and stepped outside. The TV’s noise faded behind her, replaced by the occasional crackle of fireworks overhead.

The Morgan family’s festive atmosphere, though lively, felt oddly distant. Surrounded by people, she still longed for the warmth and simplicity of Christmases with Hiram. Settling under the porch, she gazed up at the fireworks painting the sky in brilliant colors, a quiet ache settling in her chest.

Then something caught her eye—a small firework, closer and lower than the others, flared briefly before fizzling out.

A moment later, she noticed the soft glow of sparklers, their light flickering like fireflies dancing on a summer night.

The sight brought back memories of her childhood, when village kids would play with sparklers, carefree and joyful.

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