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I always will.

I study her pretty face, the same one featured in fashion campaigns, magazine covers, and giant billboards around the world. My older sister inherited almost the exact same features.

When I say nothing, Mom’s smile begins to fade.

I don’t like that.

When Mom smiles, the world feels right.

So I lift one gloved finger and gently poke the tip of her nose.

“Boop.”

She laughs, and her smile returns.

Only then does the tightness in my chest loosens.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I’m just…” I search for the right word. “Me.”

I think that’s the first time I’ve ever told anyone what it feels like inside my head.

Mom’s smile softens, her eyes brightening the way they do whenever Dad surprises her with pink roses for no reason.

“That’s right, my beautiful moonbeam,” she whispers. “You are perfectly, wonderfully you. Never let anyone convince you otherwise.” She lifts my gloved hand and presses a gentle kiss against my knuckles. “The moon is very quiet.”

Another soft kiss.

“Sometimes she gets lonely.”

Another.

“And yet…” She smiles. “Every night she still lights up the entire sky.”

I watch her carefully and hang on to her every word.

“And yet…” She smiles. “Every night, she still lights up the entire sky.”

I watch her carefully, hanging on to every word.

“Do you know what I love most about the moon, Artemis?”

“What?”

Mom’s smile grows brighter.

“She never asks permission to shine. She just does.”

She cups my chin, gently tilting my face until I’m looking directly into eyes that remind me of my own.

“Daddy and I aren’t trying to change who you are, Artemis.” Her thumb brushes my cheek. “We’re only trying to sweep away anything that might dim that beautiful light of yours.”

Something inside my chest loosens a little more.

Not completely.

But just enough.

It feels like a knot untangling itself.