Emily Harper was only twelve when her mum, Claire, ended up in the local NHS hospital. Doctors said it would be a short bout of flu, just a few days. A week turned into two, then three and then Natalie Spencer arrived.
David Harper had remarried quickly, as if he feared being alone. Natalie was immaculate, stern, and utterly unfamiliar. From the moment she moved in, laughter vanished from the house.
Children arent allowed in the ward, Natalie said coldly when Emily clutched her sleeve. Your mum isnt in a condition to see you. She needs rest, and you need to stay out.
David said nothing, only furrowed his brow whenever Emily asked questions. Each time Natalie glanced at her as if she were an inconvenient speck.
But Emily felt her mothers call. Claire wasnt just illshe was slipping away.
Wait for me, Mum she whispered into her pillow each night.
One dawn, while Natalie slept soundly, Emily slipped on an old coat, tucked a plush bunny a birthday gift from Claire under it, and slipped out.
York Hospital was a maze of corridors, stairways, and the sharp scent of antiseptic. She ducked behind nurses, searching for the right ward, until a passing nurse called out a familiar name. Emily darted after her.
Who are you? the nurse asked, spotting the scrawny girl at the bedside door.
I Im her daughter. May I just look in?
The woman hesitated, then nodded. Quickly. Shes been waiting.
The ward was dim, the air heavy. Claire lay almost motionless, pale as smoke, but her eyes flickered to life the moment Emily entered.
My sunshine, she breathed.
Emily collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, burying her face in Claires hands.
Im sorry Im sorry I couldnt I wanted to, but she choked.
Claires fingers stroked Emilys hair, slow and weak. I knew youd come I couldnt leave without saying goodbye.
Emily placed the bunny beside the bed. Youll always be with me, Mum?
Always. Im inside you.
At that moment Natalie burst into the room, fury written all over her face. Seeing Claire smile for the first time in weeks, she froze. For once she looked at Emily not as a problem but as a grieving child whod lost the most precious thing.
After Claire passed, Natalie never shouted again. She started making Emily breakfast, braiding her hair gently, quietly, as if handling a fragile vase.
One afternoon Emily asked, You were a daughter once too, werent you?
Natalie looked away. I was but I never got to say goodbye.
Emily took her hand, stayed silent, and never called her just Natalie again. From then on, she called her Mum.
Months slipped by. The house grew quieter, but not gloomier. Emily still whispered to her mother at night, but during the day she no longer flinched when Natalie slipped an apple into her schoolbag or tucked a blanket over her at bedtime.
Something in that new mum cracked that day in the hospital, when she watched another woman let go of a child, not pushing them away but holding them close as if they were her own. Natalie realised a lot about herself about childhood, about the importance of giving warmth, especially when youve spent a lifetime hunting for it.
While rummaging through the attic, Emily uncovered a dusty box filled with faded photographs and notes. One picture showed a little girl in a pinafore beside a woman who looked strikingly like a younger Natalie.
Whos that? Emily asked, descending the stairs.
Natalie stared at the photo for a long while, then sat beside her. Thats me and my mum. She died when I was eight. No one told me. They said shed gone away. I waited and I was terrified that it was my fault she left.
Emily squeezed her hand. But you didnt leave me. Thank you.
That evening they lit a single candle for Emilys mother and another for Natalies. Were both daughters, Emily said, and now were each others mums.
Natalie wept not from grief but from a fresh, bright joy. Real families, she realised, are forged not by blood but by choice.
A year later Emily had the look of someone whod aged beyond her years. The bewildered childlike confusion was gone, leaving only a warm melancholy and cautious hope in her eyes.
Natalie no longer resembled that icy woman who once locked cupboards, snapped at scattered toys, and demanded to be called Mrs Spencer. She now attended parentteacher meetings, kept the plush bunny on the dresser, and taught Emily how to tie a bow on a schooluniform apron.
Your mum would be proud of you, Natalie said one afternoon, running her hand through Emilys hair.
Emily nodded, then hugged her tightly. I know. Shes watching. And Im not scared because I have a mum again.
That night Natalie stayed up, pulling out a box of unsent letters to her own mother. For the first time she wrote a new one not about pain, but about forgiveness, love, and the daughter who saved her.
In spring, for Emilys birthday, they drove together to the grave of Claire. Natalie carried fresh flowers, Emily a photograph.
Mum, thank you for giving me life and thank you for giving me another mum, Emily said. Look, were together now.
A gentle wind rustled through the cemetery trees, as if someone had slipped silently through the branches, free of sorrow. Both women the grownup and the girl lifted their eyes. Above, a fleeting shadow drifted across the clouds like a wing.
Claire was gone, yet she lingered in every step they took, in the fact that Emily now had two mums: one in her heart, the other right beside her.
A few more years passed. Emily graduated from secondary school in a pale blue dress, hair braided like her first mums, eyes reflecting a whole life of loss, forgiveness and real love.
At the parents evening Natalie sat in the front row, clutching a bouquet and discreetly wiping away tears. When the MC called for a grateful student, Emily walked up.
Ive had two mums. One gave me life and taught me love. The other stayed when she could have left, and taught me how to live. I want to thank them both, because without them I wouldnt be who I am today truly myself.
The auditorium fell silent. Someone sniffed. Natalie covered her face, trembling. Shed heard those words Mum, thank you, I love you many times over the years, but hearing them echoed through the whole hall felt like a final release, a highest honour.
After the ceremony they walked home in the twilight, a warm breeze on their backs. Natalie suddenly said, You know, I always feared youd compare us. That I was a stranger and she was the real one
Emily stopped, grabbed her hand firmly. Youre not a stranger. She lives in my heart. You live in my life. With you Im a daughter again. Thank you, Mum.
They embraced, and in that hug there was no loss, only a whole new finding. Family isnt always blood; sometimes its a choice, and love that outweighs everything.
Somewhere up there, a woman smiled, because her little girl was no longer alone.
