Margaret Hayes was the kind of woman who people in her town thought of as gentle and dependable. She kept to herself, but she was always there when someone needed a kind gesture. She fed the stray cats that wandered into her garden, baked lemon tarts for community bake sales, and made sure her little cottage—tucked away at the edge of town—was always surrounded by neat rows of flowers. After her husband died, she filled her life with books, small routines, and quiet evenings by the fireplace.
For years, the silence of her home had been a comfort. But one chilly October morning, something changed. She sat at her breakfast table, staring at the empty chair across from her.
It felt like she was waiting for someone who wasn’t coming—someone who had never been there in the first place. The ache in her chest was sharp, and the food on her plate suddenly seemed tasteless. Without thinking too much about it, she pushed her plate away, put on…..Read Full Story Here……………………
