But life has a strange way of finding you when you’ve stopped expecting anything.
Years later, on a rainy afternoon, I found myself pulling into the parking lot of an orphanage.
I told myself I was only curious. I wasn’t trying to replace anyone.
Inside, the building smelled of disinfectant and crayons.
Laughter echoed down one hallway, crying from another.
A caseworker named Deirdre explained the process honestly, with no promises.
Then I saw her.
A small girl sat quietly in a wheelchair, holding a notebook while other children ran past.
Her expression was calm—far too calm for someone so young.
“That’s Lily,” Deirdre said. “She’s five.”
