EMMA
The room was silent except for the soft rhythm of her breathing.
She clung to my hand like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. My little girl, not just my sister but my daughter.
Her tiny fingers curled tightly around mine as if afraid I'd disappear again. She hadn't said a word about it, not about me being her mother, not about the missing years, not about the secrets. She danced around the truth like it was a fire that might burn her if she got too close.
I didn't push her. I couldn't. Not when her lashes trembled on her cheeks, not when her heartbeat slowed against mine. She was here. That was enough.
The weight of everything pressed against my chest, but for now, I let it go. I just kept stroking her hair, memorizing the curve of her cheek, and the way her breath hitched as she sank into deeper sleep.
I didn't even realize I had begun to hum, a soft lullaby my mother once sang to me when I was small and frightened of thunder.
