For the first few nights, Lily barely slept. She tiptoed into the nursery again and again, making sure the babies were breathing. Helen would find her there, singing softly.
One evening, as Lily tucked the twins in, Helen said, “Your mother’s getting stronger every day.”
“When can I see her?” Lily asked.
“Soon. And she’ll be so proud of you.”
Lily hesitated. “I just hope she remembers me.”
“She could never forget you,” Helen said. “You’re her heartbeat.”
It was a crisp spring morning when the van pulled up to Willow Creek Rehabilitation Center. Lily’s hands trembled as she held the twins’ stroller. Helen leaned down and whispered, “You ready, sweetheart?”
Through the glass doors, she saw her mother sitting in a wheelchair under a blooming cherry tree. She looked thinner, but her eyes were open—clear and searching.
“Mom!” Lily cried, running forward. Anna’s arms opened just in time to catch her.
They held each other without words. Tears fell freely—tears of relief, love, and forgiveness.
“Let me see you,” Anna said, cupping her daughter’s face. “My brave girl. You kept your promise.”
“I did,” Lily whispered. “I took care of Micah and Emma.”
