Selena settled in a small flat by the sea, the air salt-bright and sharp with possibility. She found work at a local gallery, her days filled with colour, her evenings quiet but peaceful. The baby grew, a constant reminder that the past still lived within her, even as she built something new.
Motherhood was nothing like she'd imagined—messy, exhausting, achingly beautiful. She poured her love into her child, determined to break the cycles that had wounded her. She told stories of courage and kindness, of choices that shaped destinies.
At times, loneliness flickered at the edges of her happiness. But there were moments—her child's laughter, the crash of waves against the shore—that reminded her she was not alone. She was transformed, not despite her pain, but because of it.