Her mind drifted away from the half-packed suitcase to the night it all started.
It was the early 2000s, a quiet hospital tucked inside the company township. The corridors were dim, only a few tube lights buzzing softly. Her father paced the waiting area, palms sweating despite the night breeze, while her mother, calm but tired, breathed steadily through the hours.
After sixteen years of marriage, after endless prayers and whispered hopes, the silence finally broke. Her first cry, just past midnight. No fireworks, no cheering crowds, just two relieved parents staring at a tiny life they had waited so long to hold. Their only child. A small heartbeat that instantly changed the rhythm of their home.
Life that followed was never luxurious. Budgets stretched, plans carefully drawn. But that long-awaited beginning filled their walls with strength and quiet joy, the kind that lasts through years.