I used to think “home” was something you outgrow.

I built a life where nobody asked if I was happy, only if I was reliable.

Regional Director at thirty-one. Always traveling. Always “fine.”

Then the call came, and everything stopped.

“It was a stroke, honey. There was nothing the doctors could do. It’s better this way… Your mom went with everything intact until the end.”

Then the call came.

**

I barely remembered the flight. I just kept counting breaths and saying her name.

My fingers shook as I signed the car rental papers.

I pulled up to our old house and killed the engine, but I didn’t reach for the keys. My hands were locked on the steering wheel, and I watched my knuckles turn white.

The porch light was still on, even though it was midday. My mother’s green raincoat dangled crooked on its hook. I sat there, staring at it, until my phone vibrated in my lap.

“Are you coming in, Nadia?” Aunt Karen’s voice crackled through the screen, sharp, even when trying to sound gentle.

I pushed the door open and stepped onto the path, suitcase bumping behind me. The air smelled like cut grass and someone else’s laundry detergent. I paused in the doorway, fighting the urge to call out for my mom again.

Aunt Karen met me inside, already moving fast. She held out lemon bars with a tight smile.

“Your mom’s favorites. Try one, will you?”

“Are you coming in, Nadia?”

“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled, but took one anyway, just to keep her from worrying. Her eyes flicked to the mug in the sink. She started stacking containers.

“You slept at all?” she asked, peering at me over her glasses.

I shrugged, rubbing my forehead. “It’s all a blur. I keep thinking I’ll hear her singing in the kitchen or the bathroom.”

Aunt Karen hesitated.

“You slept at all?”

“You want to sit down for a minute?” she asked. “Or talk?”

I shook my head. “We should just get through the day. That’s what Mom would want.”

“Always the strong one, Nadia.”

“Someone has to be,” I said, but my throat tightened.

“That’s what Mom would want.”

The funeral home was colder than I remembered, the hush broken only by the squeak of my shoes on tile. Aunt Karen pressed an order of service into my hands, her own trembling.

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“She’d be so proud of you, Nadia,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”

I swallowed, nodding, but I couldn’t trust my voice.

**

“She’d be so proud.”

At the cemetery, Aunt Karen wrapped her hand around my wrist, squeezing every time I looked ready to drift away. People filed past, each leaving a few soft words.

I tried to smile, but my cheeks felt numb.

Then I saw a woman with tangled blonde hair, holding a baby boy. She was staring right at me, not the casket.

I met her eyes for a second before looking away. Something about her felt like a question I wasn’t ready to answer.

I tried to smile

Aunt Karen nudged me. “Let’s get through this, honey. The pastor’s starting the final service now.”

I gripped the edge of the program, breath shallow.

out sacrifice and single mothers, about strength in small things. I kept my eyes forward, because if I let them roam, I knew I’d fall apart.

The dirt at my feet blurred, the rosebush too bright in my peripheral vision, and I focused on staying upright until the last word was said.

I knew I’d fall apart.

When the pallbearers moved to lower the coffin, the blonde woman made her move. She approached fast, her steps sure even as her hands trembled. The little boy reached out and caught my necklace, wrapping sticky fingers around it.

I tried to pull away, but she pressed the boy into my arms before I could react.

My body caught him automatically, one hand to his back, the other supporting his legs. He was warm and impossibly real, breath hitching against my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, panicked, adjusting my grip as he squirmed.

I tried to pull away.

The woman’s face was pale, determined. “She wanted you to have him,” she said, voice raw.

ching.”

The baby buried his face in my neck. I stood firm, fighting the urge to push him away and run. “I’m not passing him around like a casserole dish,” I shot back.

“She wanted you to have him.”

Aunt Karen’s lips tightened. “Now’s not the time for defiance.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, looking the woman in the eye.

She took a shaky breath.

“I’m Brittany. I live next door. I’m Lucas’s godmother. I can’t keep him. I know his caseworker.”

I kept my arms tight around Lucas. “And his mom? Where is she?”

I ignored her.

She hesitated, then met my eyes.

My pulse spiked. “My mother never told me anything about this.”

“She didn’t want to add more to your plate. She said you had enough to carry.”

I looked down at Lucas. He clung to my sweater with sticky hands, eyes darting between us. I cleared my throat.

“She said you had enough to carry.”

“She trusted you, Nadia,” Brittany said quietly.

Anger bubbled up in me, twisting with confusion.

“Why didn’t you just call? Why ambush me like this?”

“This was the only place you’d have to listen,” Brittany answered. “The only place you wouldn’t just hang up.”

Before I could argue, Aunt Karen stepped between us, her expression stony. “Enough. Not here. We’ll talk at the house.”

“She trusted you, Nadia.”

Later, the house buzzed with casseroles and sympathy. Aunt Karen whisked guests in and out, handing out hugs like party favors. I settled on the couch with Lucas, his head heavy against my collarbone.

Brittany hovered near the kitchen, arms crossed.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” I muttered, not looking up.

Brittany slid onto the arm of the couch anyway. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for Lucas. Your mom saved him more than once.”

I settled on the couch with Lucas.

“Maybe she knew you’d say no,” Brittany replied.

Lucas stirred in his sleep. I pulled the blanket higher around him.

“I’m not anyone’s backup plan, Brittany. And I can’t promise that I’ll be the best fit for this baby.”

Across the room, Aunt Karen’s voice filtered in. “Yes, Nadia’s home for now. She’s doing fine.” I heard her sigh deeply. “No, she’s not staying. Not really.”

“She should have at least asked me.”

“She can’t keep him, Karen. It doesn’t matter what Kathleen tried to do, but Nadia’s life isn’t here anymore.”

“Just give her a chance. She’s tougher than she lets on… but she also has the biggest heart I’ve known.”

“She can’t keep him, Karen.”

Upstairs, after I laid Lucas on my childhood bed, I unzipped the diaper bag I had carried up with him. I hadn’t really looked inside before. My hands moved automatically, inventorying.

“Wipes,” I muttered. “Two diapers. Half a pack of crackers.”

Lucas rolled onto his side, clutching the small blue bunny from the side pocket. He pressed it to his cheek and smiled.

“How long were you here?” I whispered, more to the room than to him.

My hands moved automatically.

Something tugged at me. I picked Lucas up and walked back downstairs, my pulse ticking faster. I secured him on the couch, surrounded by cushions.

In the kitchen, I opened cabinets one by one. On the third floor, taped inside, was a white envelope.

My name was written across it in my mom’s handwriting.

I didn’t sit. I didn’t brace myself. I just tore it open.

Something tugged at me.

“Please don’t be angry, Nadia.

But Lucas is little, and he deserves more than what he’s been given. I’ve been fostering him because his mom isn’t able to care for him right now.

Give him a chance. Love him.

Mom.”

“Please don’t be angry, Nadia.”

My throat burned. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” I whispered to the empty kitchen.

For a minute, I was a kid again, lost, furious, needing my mother to tell me what to do.

The doorbell rang.

Brittany opened it before I could move.

The doorbell rang.

The door swung open and a woman rushed in, hair wild and dark circles beneath her eyes.

Her voice wobbled. She tried for a smile, but her hands shook as she reached for him.

Lucas shrank away, looking to Brittany.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Carly, we’ve talked about this. And he’s okay.”

She blinked, fighting tears. “I know he is. I just — I needed to see him.”

“So that’s it? You’re just taking him?”

“I needed to see him.”

“No,” I said, steady but kind. “I know my mom fostered him on and off, Carly. But I’m not taking him from you. I promise. This isn’t about punishing you or keeping him forever.”

I reached out and took Lucas into my arms.

“You think I don’t love him?” Carly asked, her face crumpling. “You think I don’t want him? Your mother thought she was better than me.”

“I’m not taking him from you.”

I shook my head.

“I know you love him. I see it. But love’s not always enough when life gets too heavy. My mom knew that. That’s why she made a plan with Brittany. That’s why I’m here now.”

“You’re not losing him, hon. You’re getting a chance to get better and come back strong. This is just the hard part.”

“I know you love him.”

Carly rubbed her eyes, struggling for air. “I never thought I’d be here. I never thought… How long? How long until I can have him back?”

“It’s up to you,” I said, meeting her gaze. “We’ll do check-ins and a plan. You’ll show them you’re stable. I want to help, not hurt.”

I smiled, just a little. “We’ll be here. He’ll be here. You’re still his mom, Carly. That doesn’t change because of a piece of paper or a bad season.”

“I want to help, not hurt.”

She looked at me for a long moment. “You really mean that?”

“I do. I wasn’t sure I could do this, but I’ve just seen how hard you’re willing to fight for him,” I said. “I can step in until you’re ready. I’ll do the best I can.”

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Brittany placed a hand on Carly’s back, gentle and steady. “Let’s get you some water. Let’s talk next steps.”

As they moved toward the kitchen, Lucas curled into my arms, eyelids drooping. I brushed his hair off his forehead and whispered, “We’re safe. All of us, for now.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

“You’re doing much better than I thought, Nadia,” Aunt Karen said from the doorway. “What does this mean for work?”

“It means Frankfurt can wait,” I said.

“My job will replace me,” I cut in, surprised by my own steadiness. “Lucas won’t.”

Brittany let out a breath from the hallway. “We’ll file emergency guardianship Monday. Temporary first. Then a plan.”

“My job will replace me.”

I nodded once.

Carly hovered by the doorway, arms wrapped tight around herself. “He… he hates me.”

Carly’s face crumpled. “I’m going to get better. I swear.”

“Then prove it,” I said. “Show up.”

“He… he hates me.”

When the door closed, the house went still.

I looked at Mom’s letter, swallowed hard, and whispered, “Okay. We’ll do this the right way.”