That evening, we went together to my mother’s house. Time seemed to slow as I stepped into her bedroom, taking in the frail figure of the woman I had missed for sixteen years. She smiled, whispering that she had forgiven me long ago, and I crossed the room to embrace her, tears streaming freely.
We celebrated her birthday quietly, three people together for a fleeting, perfect moment. And when the night grew still, she slipped away peacefully, leaving me with Lily—my sister, my connection to the family I had feared lost. I promised myself then that I would never hesitate again; I had already lost too much, and I wasn’t going to lose her too.
