I Saw a Bracelet My Missing Daughter and I Had Made on a Barista’s Wrist – So I Asked, ‘Where Did You Get It?’

Over the weeks, I visited. We sipped coffee, shared stories, laughed over old scrapbooks, and watched Emily and Zoey play. The bracelet, once a symbol of our bond, now passed to Emily, dangling loosely on her tiny wrist.

That Christmas, I sat in Hannah’s living room as the snow fell outside. Laughter echoed, cinnamon scented the air, and for the first time in years, Christmas felt warm again.

“I never stopped waiting,” I whispered.

“I know,” Hannah said, resting her head on my shoulder.

And in that moment, the years of pain felt worth it — because she was home.