“Because I didn’t know how,” she said. “Because I was afraid and broke and alone. None of that excuses it.
I failed you.”
Lily stared at her hands. “I thought I’d be furious,” she said. “I am, a little.
Mostly I’m sad.”
“Me too,” Emily whispered.
They talked about Lily’s life, the children’s home, and Emily’s illness. Lily asked medical questions without turning it into a diagnosis.
When it was time to go, Emily turned to me. “Thank you,” she said.
“For loving her.”
“She saved us too,” I said. “We didn’t rescue her. We became a family.”
On the drive home, Lily was silent, staring out the window the way she used to after hard days at school.
Then she broke down.
“I thought meeting her would fix something,” she sobbed. “But it didn’t.”
I climbed into the backseat and held her.
“The truth doesn’t always fix things,” I said. “Sometimes it just ends the wondering.”
She pressed her face into my shoulder.
“You’re still my mom,” she said.
“And you’re still my girl,” I told her. “That part is solid.”
It’s been a while now. Sometimes Lily and Emily talk.
Sometimes months pass. It’s complicated, and it doesn’t fit into a clean story.
But one thing changed for good.
Lily doesn’t call herself “unwanted” anymore.
Now she knows she was wanted twice: by a scared teenager who couldn’t fight her parents, and by two people who heard about “the girl no one wants” and knew that was a lie.
If you could give one piece of advice to anyone in this story, what would it be? Let’s talk about it in the Facebook comments.
