Echoes of the Digital Ghost

The silence in the lawyer's office was stifling. The walls, painted a sterile white, held no comfort. Zarina sat between her children, her body still, her heart aching. She had spent years trying to hold this family together. Now she was barely noticed.

Jack and Jane sat apart, their cold glances sharper than any words spoken. Zarina clutched her purse tightly. It wasn't the bag she held onto, it was the last piece of security she had left.

The lawyer adjusted her glasses and looked at the three of them. "Digital inheritance is complicated," she began. "Your father's assets stretch across platforms cryptocurrency, royalties, social media, cloud files. Each of these comes with legal challenges."

Jack leaned forward, frustration rising in his voice. "Then let's make it easy. Delete the accounts. Shut everything down."

Jane turned sharply. "That's your solution? Just erase everything he built?"

"It's not about him," Jack said. "It's about the mess he left behind. Do you even realize how much trouble we could be in? We don't have access to his crypto wallet. Half the royalty contracts are overseas. We could spend years in court."

"Then we hire someone to help," Jane said, her voice firm. "You don't just throw away someone's life because it's inconvenient."

The lawyer stepped in. "Hiring a digital asset manager is a realistic step. But it requires cooperation from both of you."

Zarina shifted in her seat, her voice low. "Your father wanted you to do this together."

Jack didn't look at her. Jane stared down at her hands. The pain that had settled into Zarina's bones was no longer just from grief, it was from being forgotten.

"I stayed," she said, almost to herself. "I stayed when he left for weeks to work on music. I stayed through the silence, through the chemo. And now I sit here, invisible."

Jane looked up, guilt flickering in her eyes. Jack didn't respond.

Zarina forced herself to breathe. "This isn't just his mess. It's mine too. You don't know how hard it was watching him fade."

Jack's shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean "

But she was already standing. "You both decide. I'll support whatever you choose. I'm tired of fighting for a voice no one listens to."

Jane reached out, but Zarina was already at the door.

That night, the house was darker than usual. Jane sat in the living room, the only sound was the soft hum of her laptop. Jack had gone to bed early, and Zarina hadn't come out of her room since they returned.

Jane scrolled through their father's email, hoping to find something useful. Her eyes were heavy, but she couldn't let go of the idea that Erikur had left something more. Something they had missed.

Then she saw a subject line buried deep in unread mail: "For My Children."

Her breath caught. Hands trembling, she opened it. A password box appeared.

Jane stared. Then a memory surfaced: Erikur under the oak tree, saying, "The bond is in the roots."

She typed it in. The message opened.

To my dearest Jane and Jack,

If you're reading this, I'm no longer with you, and I'm sorry for all I never said. Life has a way of slipping by when we think we have time.

I know this won't be easy. You'll argue. You'll see things differently. But please remember your bond is stronger than you know. You balance each other. Jack, your focus. Jane, your heart. Together, you are enough.

Below, I've left notes for the assets. Some will be hard to unlock. Others may not be worth the effort. But I trust you to decide what matters.

More than anything, I want you to take care of each other. That's the real legacy. Not the music. Not the coins. Not the words.

Love,

Dad

Jane wiped her face, blinking through tears. At that moment, she didn't care about Bitcoin or contracts. She just missed him.

The next morning, she found Zarina in the kitchen, her face pale and tired. A coffee cup sat in front of her, untouched.

"I found something," Jane said softly.

Zarina looked up. "Another account?"

"No. A letter. For us." She sat beside her mother. "He knew we'd struggle. He knew we'd need each other."

Zarina nodded slowly. "He always believed in that. Even when he didn't show it well."

Jane hesitated. "I think Jack needs to see it. But he won't open it if I ask him."

Zarina took the laptop, stood, and walked toward Jack's room. She knocked once. No answer. She opened the door anyway.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

"I'm not here to fight," Zarina said, handing him the laptop. "Just watch it."

He didn't speak as she left the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Jack joined them in the kitchen. His eyes were red, but calm.

"He said we're stronger together," he said.

Jane looked up. "He did."

Jack sighed. "Let's call the manager. Keep the memories. Clear the clutter. And... maybe archive the rest. Offline."

Zarina sat quietly, her eyes glassy. "That's all he would've wanted."

Days later, a digital inheritance expert arrived. Together, they spent hours organizing files, archiving Erikur's work, closing old accounts, and creating a private digital vault for the most meaningful memories.

Zarina spent most of the time in the background, sorting photos, organizing journals. But something shifted in her children. They began asking her about Erikur's choices, his music, and his quirks. She didn't have all the answers, but they listened. That was enough.

One night, while sorting old hard drives, they found a file simply named Roots.mp4.

Jack opened it.

Erikur appeared on screen, sitting under the oak tree in the backyard.

"If you're watching this," he said with a smile, "you found the roots."

He looked straight at the camera. "I know I wasn't the best at saying what I felt. But this family you three you were my peace."

He paused.

"Zarina, I know I hurt you by keeping my distance when you needed me most. I wish I had told you sooner. You gave me everything, and I gave you silence. I'm sorry."

Zarina's hands covered her mouth.

"To my kids," he said. "You've always been more than I deserved. You'll be okay. Just keep coming back to the roots."

The screen went black.

They sat together, all three, in silence. But this time, it wasn't cold. It wasn't empty.

It was full with the sound of healing, of love not lost, but waiting to be remembered