Hailey paused, her chopsticks resting on the edge of the carton. She looked up at me, her eyes clearer and brighter than they had been in a year.
“Mom?” she said softly.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
She took a slow breath. “Thank you. Thank you for believing me. For getting me out.”
I reached across the distance between us, taking her hand in mine. “I will always believe you. I will always fight for you.”
I spoke the words with the fierce, unyielding conviction of a mother who had walked through the fire and dragged her child out of the flames. Our world is not perfectly mended. The scars are permanent, raised, and sometimes they ache when the weather turns cold. But this life is ours. It is honest. And most importantly, it is undeniably safe.
