Jeff’s marriage to Claire, a single mom with two beautiful girls from a previous relationship, is almost perfect, except for the strange whispering that can be heard in the basement. A wonderful family secret is revealed to Jeff when his sisters ask him to “visit Dad.”

It felt like going back to a well-kept memory when we moved into Claire’s house after our wedding. Wax candles still smelled good in the air, and the weight of the past pressed down on the wood planks.

The room was full of activity in every corner, and the lace drapes let in lots of light that made designs on the walls. The girls, Emma and Lily, were like hummingbirds; they laughed nonstop, and Claire gave me the peace I didn’t know I had been looking for for so long.

Because of what you wanted, you longed for a home you could call your own. The only trouble spot was in the basement.

At the end of the hall, there is a door that is painted the same eggshell white color as the walls. The door wasn’t really dangerous; it was just a door. But there was still something about it that interested me.

When the girls thought no one was looking, they probably said or looked at it in a way that showed something. They stopped laughing when they knew I was watching, on the other hand.

On the other hand, Claire didn’t seem to know about the problem, even though I did. It’s possible that she was just pretending to be clueless.

“Jeff, could you get the plates?” When I heard Claire’s voice, I was taken back to that moment. Emma and Lily loved their dinner of macaroni and cheese.

Emma, who was eight years old at the time, pulled me into the kitchen and looked at me with an uncomfortable focus. She was already showing signs of her mother’s persistence. Emma was already showing signs of being stubborn like her mother. She had brown eyes, which were a bit like Claire’s because they were the same color, and they were slightly interested.

“Do you ever think about the things that are stored in the basement?”

Her asked in a strange way.

At that point, I was pretty sure I would get the dishes dirty.

“What’s that?” I asked, trying to keep my cool.

She screamed in fear, “The basement!” “Do you not wonder what is down there?”

“The washing machine!” Does it have some old furniture and some containers? I laughed, but not nearly as loudly as I thought I would. “alternatively, it is possible that there are monsters beneath the surface.” on the other hand, is it a valuable rarity?

Emma just smiled and went back to the dining room again.

A sudden fit of laughter came from Lily, who was only six years old but was more mischievous than her age.

Lily dropped her plates and cups by accident while I was making food for the girls the next morning. She jumped out of her chair to get to it because her eyes got really big.

“Daddy hates loud noises” was written in the song’s words.

I had cut off my limbs.

Claire also hadn’t said much about Lily and Emma’s dad. He is now “gone,” even though they were married and had a lot of good times. She never said whether he had died or was just living out his last days somewhere else, and I didn’t put any pressure on her to do so.

After some time, I started to wonder if it would have been right for me to ask her to tell me about his death.

Later, two days later, Lily was drawing at the breakfast table. She stayed focused the whole time, even though the pastels and pencils were all over the table in a rainbow pattern that wasn’t very neat. I walked up to her with the plan of looking at her current task.

“Is that ours?” I tried to get her attention by showing her the stick shapes she had made.

Lily gave a small nod and kept her head down. In this case, Mommy is the one being looked into. Em and I are “that.” You are the one in question. At first, she thought about the color of the pencil she was using to pick a different one for the last figure.

Who is that? I asked directly of the last person, who was standing a bit away from the others.

“That’s Daddy,” she said without giving it a second thought, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

For a second, my heart stopped. Lily drew a gray box around the person before I could ask her anything else.

Then what is that? So I asked.

She kept the same tone as she spoke: “It’s our basement.”

She jumped off her chair all of a sudden, leaving me to look at the drawing. Her sureness of herself was so strong that it made me think of a six-year-old.

By the end of the week, curiosity had turned into a problem that was getting harder to solve. The problem was something I chose to deal with that night while Claire and I were drinking wine on the couch.

“Claire,” I asked in a shy voice. “Can I ask you something regarding the basement?”

She kept her cool and held her wine glass in the air. “the basement?”

“It is just that the girls talk about it constantly.” Lily is in charge of making this picture, which doesn’t really mean anything. I might just be naturally interested.

To me, it looked like her lips were thin and close together. “Jeff, you have no reason for worry.” It’s just a cellar, really. The thing could very well be very old, wet, and full of spider webs. I promise that you don’t want to go down to that level.

Even though her voice was strong, it couldn’t hide the fact that her eyes showed she was lying. She wasn’t just going to ignore the problem; she was going to bury it.

And their dad? That was all I did. “Sometimes they talk about him like he’s still… living here.”

After letting out a breath, Claire dropped her glass to the floor. He died two years ago. The sickness showed up out of the blue. These women were completely shocked. Kids deal with loss in different ways than adults do, even though I’ve done everything I can to protect them.

That little crack in her voice made it clear that she didn’t want to say it. Also, her speech wasn’t very clear. Still, I stopped moving because the worry was following me around like a cloud.

The chaos then reached its worst point over the next week.

The two girls were home sick with fevers and the sniffles while Claire was at work. Both of the girls were sick. As I juggled juice boxes, snacks, and episodes of their favorite TV shows, Emma walked into the room looking pretty sad. I tried to stay steady.

“Would you be interested in paying Dad a visit?” she asked me. The way she said what she was saying was so intentional that it made my chest tighten.

I had taken off my limbs. “What does you mean?”

Lily came out from behind her with a stuffed animal bunny in her hands.

She said, “Mommy keeps him in the basement,” as if she were talking about the temperature.

My stomach went down into its pit. “Girls, that’s not humorous.”

“It is not a joke,” Emma said with firmness. “Dad lives in the basement,” which we could show you.

I stayed strongly committed to them even though it made no sense.

As we went down the creaky wooden stairs, the air started to get cooler, and the low lamp cast strange shifting shadows. The walls were so close together that they made me feel like I could not breathe. The musty smell of mildew filled my nose.

With my back against the bottom step, I looked into the darkness to see if there was any proof that would support the girls’ belief that their father lived here.

Emma took my hand and led me straight to a small table tucked away in the corner of the room. “Over here,” she told him.

There were some wilted flowers, toys, and very bright art on the table. A plain and simple urn stood in the middle of it. For a short time, my heart felt like it was beating fast.

“Look, there’s Daddy.” Emma smiled big at me and pointed to the urn.

“Hi, Daddy!” Lily gently touched the urn as if it were a pet bird, which made it chirp. After that, she came over to see how I was doing. “We visit him down here so he won’t feel lonely.”

Emma whispered and put her hand on my arm at the same time. “Do you find he misses us?”

The weight of their innocence made my throat close up and finally made me fall to my knees. I hugged both of them.

“Your father……” “He can’t be missing you; he’s never without you,” I told myself. In your thoughts at all times. “In your hearts.” Thank you for making this house so beautiful for him to live in.

When Claire got home that night, I told her everything right away. As soon as she heard it, her face turned funny, and tears began to pour out of her eyes.

Even though her voice was shaking, she said, “I didn’t know.” “I thought that getting him out of that site would help us move forward,” It was completely hidden from me that… Oh My God. My two children look so sad.

“Your part is not faultful.” “They just… they still need to feel close to him,” I said in a soft, comforting voice. “In Their Way.”

As we sat still, the past weighed on us like a weight. Putting something over Claire’s eyes finally made her feel better.

She is said to have said, “We will move him.” “another location that is superior.” Emma and Lily could show how sad they are about his death without going down into the damp cellar.

The next day, a new table was brought into the living room and set up. The girls put their art around the urn, which was in the middle of a collection of family photos.

Clare set up a time to talk with Emma and Lily that night to explain.

In a soft voice, she said, “Your father is not buried in that urn.” Not really. He is with us in our love for each other and in the stories we tell each other. This is how we keep him close.

Emma gave a sad nod, and Lily grabbed her pet with all her strength.

She said, “Is it possible for us to extend a greeting to he?”

“Certainly” was Claire’s answer, but her voice seemed to break a little. Also, you can keep drawing for him. This is exactly why we moved his urn here and gave it its own space.

Lily smiled and sent it. “Thank you, Mother. Daddy might feel better about our business.

On that particular Sunday, we began a new tradition. It was time to light a candle and gather around the urn as the sun went down. Claire talked about their dad’s love of music, his ability to dance with them in the kitchen, and how his laugh could make anyone laugh. At this point, too, the sisters traded their drawings and stories.

While I was watching them, I felt very thankful all the time. It hit me when I accepted that I was going to fill in for him while he was away. I was told that my job was to improve the attachment in this home.

Having my picture in it made me feel even better.