When I opened my eyes again, I slowly knelt.
They were buried side by side, just as they had lived—inseparable in life and now in death.
My fingers trembled as I traced the letters of their names carved into the stone. My chest tightened painfully as I placed the bouquets gently on their graves, my hands lingering there as if I were afraid that letting go would mean losing them all over again.
I felt Jiya’s hand squeeze my shoulder. Without thinking, I reached for her hand and held it tightly in return. It must have hurt, but she didn’t pull away or complain. Instead, she stayed by my side, letting me hold on to her as everything inside me slowly gave way.
A tear slid slowly down my cheek.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t come by,” I whispered, my shoulders curling inward as the weight of my guilt pressed down on me like wet sand. “I promise to come more often.”
At that exact moment, the clouds parted, and rays of sunlight broke through the grey sky, spilling gently over the graves as though the world itself was offering a moment of grace.
Jiya’s hand remained on my shoulder, and the warmth from her touch spread slowly through my body, melting the cold that had wrapped around me since we arrived. My chest loosened, and my breathing steadied as something deep inside me finally shifted—something that had been locked away for years.
For the first time in a very long time, I felt a small willingness to forgive myself and accept what had happened so that I could finally move forward.
I stood up slowly and turned toward Jiya.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, my voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
She smiled gently, her eyes filled with kindness and strength. “This is what friends are for.”
Standing there beside her, in the stillness of that sacred place, with the sunlight warming my face and her presence at my side, I realized something.
Our friendship was going to be extraordinary.
24
JIYA
Iwatched Emma drift off to sleep. At eight months old, she looked more like Caleb with each passing day, especially around the eyes, and sometimes the resemblance caught me so off guard that my breath would hitch. She had started crawling, quick and curious, playing her own version of hide-and-seek by disappearing behind furniture or into corners just long enough to make my heart jump before she revealed herself, far too pleased with the reaction she had caused.
After dinner one evening, when both children were in bed, and the house had fallen quiet, I sat down and browsed the internet. I was not really looking for anything in particular, just mindlessly scrolling and clicking through pages, trying to unwind.
A new email message popped up on the screen, grabbing my attention.
It was from a woman named Sarah Page from Family Finder Tree.
My pulse quickened.
She said she had good news and asked me to call her.
With trembling fingers, I dialled her number, barely able to sit still while waiting for her to answer. My heartbeat ricocheted through my body.
When she answered, I gave her my name and account details.
“Ms. Flores, we have found your biological mother,” Sarah said.
Everything inside me stopped.
They found my mother.My mother.
“Can I ask if you are still interested in meeting her?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied instantly. “Of course, yes!”
Seconds later, an email with further details appeared on my laptop.
