When Lily woke the next morning, Helen sat beside her, smiling. “They found your house, sweetheart. Your mom’s in another hospital now. The doctors are helping her wake up.”
“She’s still sleeping?” Lily whispered.
“Yes, but she said your name when she opened her eyes.”
Lily stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “I used to count how many times I tried to wake her. I gave her water with a spoon, like she showed me for the babies.”
“You did everything right,” Helen said, holding back tears. “You saved them all.”
That afternoon, child psychologist Dr. Raquel Stone visited Lily’s room, carrying a small set of dolls.
“Can you show me what a normal day at home was like?” she asked.
Lily arranged the dolls carefully—a mother and three children. “On good days, Mom got up early and sang while feeding the babies,” she explained. “But sometimes her heart got too heavy. I brought her tea and made sure the babies stayed quiet.”
Dr. Stone noticed how Lily always placed her own doll between the mother and the babies—as if she were the bridge keeping everyone together.
“That’s a lot for someone your age,” the doctor said softly.
Lily shrugged. “Mom said I was born with an old soul.”
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