But it hadn’t created it.

I did not forgive him that day.

He had kept Mr. Bunny hidden for years.

He married me without telling me the truth.

And then he left his six-year-old daughter to deliver a secret he had been too afraid to tell himself.

I was still angry.

But I no longer believed Lily had been handed to me as some replacement for Josie.

She chose me first.

And I chose her every day afterward.

We sat together on the kitchen floor until the soup went cold.

Eventually, Lily reached toward Mr. Bunny.

She touched his crooked ear.

“Who does he belong to?”

I took a breath.

“His name is Mr. Bunny.”

I looked down at him.

“He belonged to my daughter.”

“I know you had a daughter.”

Lily spoke carefully.

“But I never knew her name.”

“Josie.”

Lily whispered it.

“Josie.”

Then I told her about my little girl.

How Josie sang terribly in the car.

How she carried Mr. Bunny everywhere.

How she refused to eat anything green unless Mr. Bunny “tried it first.”

Lily leaned against my shoulder and listened.

After a while, she asked quietly,

“So… you’re still my mommy?”

“Yes.”

I answered before she even finished the question.

Her whole body relaxed against me.

Then she looked at Mr. Bunny again.

“Will you tell me more about Josie?”

So I did.

And while I talked, Lily gently stroked the rabbit’s worn fur.

Mr. Bunny had traveled a very long way.

Through an accident.

Through Daniel’s guilt.

Through years inside a hidden box.

Through another death.

But eventually, just as Josie had asked—

he finally came home.