A Heartbreaking Reunion

Oblivious to the director and Roman standing right beside her, Nora abandoned all pretense of composure. She rushed across the busy lobby and crouched onto the floor next to the small, crying girl. Her hands hovered over the child's trembling shoulders.

"Why..." Nora’s voice shook, thick with unshed tears. "Why are you crying, sweetheart?"

The little girl flinched. She looked up, her tear-streaked face radiating guarded fear at the intense stranger. Refusing to answer, she scrambled away. Moving with the speed of a startled rabbit, she scurried over to Rebecca and wrapped her tiny arms tight around the director’s leg.

"Mama Madam," the girl sobbed into the fabric of Rebecca’s skirt.

Rebecca let out a soft sigh, resting a comforting hand on the girl’s head. "Stella, what is wrong? Why the tears?"

"I miss my sister," Stella choked out, rubbing her wet eyes.

Rebecca knelt down, coaxing a fragile smile onto her face. "Now, don't cry. Your sister is in a good place."

"Mama Madam, can I go see her?" Stella sniffled.

"Of course. Maybe you will live with her soon."

Stella’s dull eyes sparked with a flicker of hope. "Really?"

"I never lie to you, do I?" Rebecca wiped a stray tear from the girl’s cheek. "Now, go pick out a nice book for a bit. I need to speak with these guests."

Stella nodded obediently, casting a timid glance at Nora and Roman. "Bye-bye, Mama Madam," she whispered, grabbing a colorful book from a low shelf and retreating to a quiet reading corner of the room.

The moment Stella was out of earshot, Rebecca motioned for Nora and Roman to step aside into the hallway. The warmth in the director’s expression hardened into grim pity.

"Stella and Hazel are twins," Rebecca said quietly. "But Hazel is no longer here. She was officially adopted just a few short hours ago."

The words struck Nora like a physical blow. She stared at Rebecca, her mind struggling to process the devastating information. "Only Hazel? Why would someone adopt only one twin?"

Rebecca crossed her arms, her expression heavy with exhaustion. "Because Stella is sick. Raising a healthy child is expensive enough. The adoptive family found out about her condition and only took Hazel."

A cold dread settled deep in Nora’s stomach. "What condition?"

"Acute leukemia," Rebecca stated bluntly.

The diagnosis echoed in Nora’s ears, a cruel twist of fate dragging her into a living nightmare. Acute leukemia. The exact same terminal disease currently afflicting Julian’s son.

"She needs a bone marrow transplant," Rebecca continued. "We registered her with the national registry, but we can only proceed once a matching donor is successfully found. Until then, she stays here."

Nora gasped, clutching her chest. She had lost one daughter to strangers hours ago, and now stood on the precipice of losing the other to a fatal disease.

"I am her birth mother," Nora declared fiercely, stepping forward. Panic and determination fueled her racing heart. "My bone marrow might be a perfect match. Test me."

Roman stepped up beside her, his jaw set in a hard line. "I will get tested as well. Let’s increase the odds."

Rebecca studied Nora’s desperate, tear-filled eyes. The director’s strict demeanor cracked just a fraction. "I will give you exactly half an hour to sit with her," Rebecca said, her tone carrying a stern warning. "But do not tell her who you are. We need official maternity test results first. These children are fragile. I refuse to let you falsely raise the hopes of a sick little girl."

Nora nodded frantically. "I promise."

Roman squeezed Nora’s shoulder. "Go to her. I will step outside and make some calls. I am going to track down the family that took Hazel."

Nora mouthed a silent thank you as Roman turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket. Taking a deep, ragged breath, she walked slowly toward the reading corner.

Stella sat on a tiny wooden chair, holding her book. As Nora approached, the four-year-old looked up, blinking her large, innocent eyes.

"Ma'am," Stella asked, tilting her head. "Are you here to pick a child, too?"

Before Nora could form a single word, Stella spoke again, delivering a plea that shattered what remained of Nora’s heart.

"Ma'am, choose another child, not me."

Nora’s breath hitched. Her throat tightened so painfully she could barely swallow. "Why would you say that?"

Stella looked down at her small shoes. "Because I am sick." Her soft, sweet voice held a terrible, heartbreaking logic. "I heard Mama Madam say my sickness needs a lot, a lot, and a lot of money to fix. You should not pick me."

The sheer selflessness radiating from the tiny, sick child destroyed Nora’s defenses. Hot, heavy tears spilled over her lashes, streaming freely down her pale cheeks. She covered her mouth, a stifled sob tearing from her throat.

Seeing the stranger cry, Stella rummaged in her dress pocket. She pulled out a small, slightly wrinkled handkerchief and stood on her tiptoes. With gentle, careful hands, the little girl wiped the tears from Nora’s face.

"Does your sickness hurt?" Nora choked out, catching Stella’s small hand in hers.

Stella shook her head, her chin jutting out. "Nope. I am super brave."

Nora let out a broken wail. She pulled the fragile child into a desperate, crushing embrace, burying her face in Stella’s small shoulder. She wept openly, her body shaking with immense agony. How could she not have known her own flesh and blood suffered so deeply?

A vicious, burning hatred for Julian Crawford erupted in her chest. How could he be such a monster? He paid off the medical staff, fabricated that vile lie about her babies dying, and robbed these innocent girls of their mother the second they took their first breath. Julian had every right to direct his wrath at her, but punishing two blameless infants was an unforgivable sin. He stole their childhood and left them to face terminal illness alone.

Stella patted Nora’s back with her tiny hand, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Ma'am, are you feeling sick, too?"

"My heart hurts," Nora sobbed against the girl’s hair. It felt as though a thousand sharp arrows had simultaneously pierced her chest, pinning her in place.

Stella wiggled back just enough to look at Nora. Wanting to comfort the crying woman, she held up her book. "We can read together. This is my favorite story."

Nora wiped her face, forcing herself to focus. She sank onto a tiny chair next to Stella. For the next thirty minutes, they sat shoulder to shoulder. Stella flipped the pages, speaking earnestly about the plot. The child’s bright eyes held the wonder of the entire universe, shining despite the dark reality of her illness. It felt less like Nora reading to a child, and more like a brave little girl quietly keeping her traumatized, heartbroken mother company.

Time slipped away in a flash.

As the thirty minutes expired, Stella closed the book and dutifully placed it back on the wooden shelf. She turned around and walked over to Nora one last time. Looking up, she spoke in a soft, firm voice.

"Ma'am, remember, don't pick me."