Emily's tears fell on the letter, blurring the ink. She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Could only cry while Timothy held her and Clara quietly wiped her own tears.
"She knew," Emily finally managed. "Elara knew she was going to die. And she still—she still took time to write this. To tell me she loved me. To remind me to be happy."
"That's what mothers do," Clara said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "They protect their children even from beyond death. Emily, your mother gave you permission to live, not just survive. That's—that's an incredible gift."
Emily set Elara's letter aside carefully and found the next envelope. Elena's handwriting this time:
Elena's Letter
My dearest Emily,
You must be so confused right now. Reading letters from two mothers. Wondering how this is possible.
