She smiled softly, a mix of nostalgia and gratitude in her eyes.

“So… you did get married?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“And you have two kids?”

“Two precious babies,” she said, her voice tinged with warmth.

Then, almost shyly, she leaned in. “We wanted four,” she admitted. “I was praying to God that I was pregnant when he got murdered. I thought… if that had happened, maybe it would have been the ultimate blessing out of this catastrophe.”

The weight of her words hung in the air. She paused, collecting herself before offering advice she wished someone had given her.

“When I see young couples now, I tell them—please, don’t put it off. If you’re a young woman, don’t put it off. You can always have a career. You can always go back to work. But you can never go back to having children. They grow so fast, so quickly.”

She smiled again, glancing down at her children playing nearby. “We were really excited to expand our family. Thank God we have the two.”

“And one day,” she added softly, almost to herself, “they’ll find out. Right now, they’re just little loves. But one day, they’ll know—they’ll know they’re Charlie Kirk’s children, and they’ll understand what that means.”