Emma woke to the lavender-scented air of Lily's reality, the crack in the plaster ceiling anchoring her in its familiar imperfection. Ethan's resolute trust—"You saved us once. You'll save us again."—and his sketch of the Paris skyline with the looping symbol echoed in her mind, intertwining with Noah's confession that she was their doctor, Sophie's fragile fight, and Lily's own memory of a hospital where Emma promised they'd meet again. The bracelet in her pocket, its looping symbol matching Sophie's, Noah's drawings, and Ethan's keychain, pulsed like a heartbeat, tying her children to a past she was beginning to reclaim. Lily's hope—"You said we'd be a family again."—and David's reluctant agreement to join them in Paris burned in her heart, pulling her toward a city where their truths would converge. She slipped out of bed, the tile cold under her feet, David's steady breathing beside her a constant in her fractured world. She needed to reach Lily, to prepare her for the journey and solidify their bond before they left.
The house was quiet, the morning light dim through the blue velvet curtains. Lily's bedroom was empty, her backpack gone, but her sketchbook lay open on the desk, a new drawing stark against the page—a Paris skyline, the Eiffel Tower glowing, three figures with bracelets bearing the looping symbol, labeled Ethan, Lily, Noah. Below it, in Lily's careful script: "You'll find us." Emma's breath caught, a memory flashing—her own voice in a hospital ward, promising three children they'd be together again. She dressed quickly, pulling on the red wool coat, the bracelet and Lily's note—"E said to keep fighting. Like you did."—heavy in her pocket. Downstairs, David was in the kitchen, sipping coffee, his face weary but softer, his reluctant agreement to Paris a fragile bridge.
"Lily's gone again," Emma said, her voice tight, grabbing her keys. "I'm going to find her."
David looked up, his eyes cautious but less guarded. "Emma, be gentle with her," he said, setting his mug down. "I'm… trying to understand, but she's scared. This Paris thing, these other kids—it's a lot. Just bring her home."
Emma nodded, her resolve unwavering but tempered by his softening tone. "I will," she said, her voice steady. "She remembers Ethan and Noah, David. She's part of this, and we're going to Paris to find them. Together." She headed for the door, pausing at the photo on the counter—Lily, young, in a hospital gown, her wrist bare. The absence of the bracelet still gnawed at her, a puzzle piece yet to fit.
She drove to the school, her heart pounding, hoping Lily had returned to the art room, her sanctuary. The campus was quiet, the early hour keeping it empty. The art room door was ajar, and inside, Emma found Lily sitting at a table, her sketchbook open, her hands steady as she drew. The looping symbol dominated the page, surrounded by a hospital ward, three beds, three children—Ethan's sharp jaw, Noah's glasses, a girl with a beanie. Sophie. Emma's heart raced, the image matching Ethan's and Noah's sketches.
"Lily," Emma said, kneeling beside her, her voice soft, "we're going to Paris. To find Ethan and Noah. Are you ready?"
Lily's eyes flicked up, red but resolute, her fingers pausing over the sketch. "You really think they're there?" she asked, her voice trembling but hopeful. "That we'll be… together?"
Emma reached for her hand, her voice gentle but firm. "I do," she said, pulling the bracelet from her pocket, its looping symbol glinting. "You said I was your doctor, gave you this bracelet in the hospital with Ethan and Noah. They remember, too. We're going to Paris to keep that promise—to be a family again."
Lily's breath hitched, her eyes glistening as she touched the bracelet. "I was so scared back then," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You made us feel safe. Ethan was strong, Noah told stories about stars, and I… I just wanted to draw. You said we'd always have each other." She pushed the sketchbook toward Emma, revealing a new drawing—a bracelet with the looping symbol, and beside it, a note: "You promised we'd never be alone."
Emma's throat tightened, a flood of images—hospital beds, three small faces, her own voice promising a future—surging through her. She pulled Lily into her arms, the girl's steady form solid against her. "You're not alone," she said, her voice fierce. "We're going to Paris, you, me, your dad. We'll find them."
Lily nodded, her eyes glistening, a flicker of hope breaking through her fear. The art room door creaked open, and David stood there, his face pale but determined, his briefcase in hand. "I found you," he said, his voice low. "Emma, Lily… I don't understand all of this, but I'm in. For you."
Emma's heart swelled, David's trust a fragile lifeline. She stood, helping Lily to her feet, the sketchbook in her hand. "We leave soon," she said, her voice steady. "After Ethan's court date, after Sophie's trial stabilizes. We're going to Paris, for all of them."
Lily clutched the sketchbook, her voice small but firm. "For Ethan, for Noah," she said. "For us."
David stepped closer, his eyes on the sketch, the looping symbol glowing. "For us," he echoed, his voice breaking, doubt giving way to resolve.
Emma's gaze fell to the sketchbook, the Paris skyline a beacon, the looping symbol tying their past to their future. Paris was no longer a dream—it was a collision point, where her role as their doctor, their mother, would converge with their present. She had to go, to keep her promise to Lily, to find Ethan and Noah, to save Sophie, no matter how close her reality came to breaking.