precious moments

Morning sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the bedroom. The light touched everything with warmth—the little bookshelf in the corner, the scattered crayons on the desk, the stuffed bunny resting at the foot of the bed.

But Maya’s eyes were not drawn to any of those things.

She was looking at Anika.

The little girl was still sleeping peacefully beside her, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Her lashes fluttered every now and then, as though she were dreaming something sweet. Her tiny hand rested on Maya’s arm, fingers curled slightly, as if she were still afraid this might all disappear.

Maya remained perfectly still, afraid to disturb the moment. Her heart was full—so full that she could barely breathe.

She hadn’t imagined it.

It hadn’t been a dream.

Anika was real. She was here. And she was hers.

A trembling breath escaped Maya’s lips as the truth sank deeper into her bones. After everything—the sleepless nights, the ye