With love,

Mrs. Higgins.”

A sob escaped me—sharp, grateful. Holt rested a hand on my shoulder.

For the first time in months, the world didn’t feel so empty.

No one spoke.

I placed a hand on my belly. “We’re staying, baby,” I whispered to my daughter.

Holt walked me back inside, placing the envelope on the table. “If you need anything, call the station. Ask for me.”

Around noon, my phone lit up with Lee’s name.

Maybe someone had already told him about the sheriff’s cars. Maybe he thought I needed him now.

I let it ring.

For once, not answering didn’t feel lonely. It felt like peace.

The day passed in a blur—calls from the bank, paperwork from Sheriff Holt, neighbors slowing near my porch like they finally knew who I was.

Ms. Pearson gave me a small, awkward nod.

By sunset, I sat on the steps with Mrs. Higgins’ letter in my lap, feeling like everything around me had shifted.

When the porch fell quiet again, I spread the deed and her note across my lap. My daughter kicked, and I rested my hand over her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins,” I whispered into the evening. “I’ll pay it forward. I promise.”

A warm breeze rustled the leaves overhead. I smiled through my tears and looked down at my belly.

“We made it,,” I whispered. “We’re home, baby girl. And I know your name now.”

Mabel.