Amira’s POVEight long years!It had been eight years since I left Montgomery, and yet, stepping back into its air felt like I had never really left. Time hadn’t dulled the memories, it had only sharpened them. I was turning twenty-four in a few months, and my daughter… my sweet Lunara would be seven next month. I had survived high school in Switzerland, pushed myself through university, studied Educational Psychology because I thought maybe, just maybe, one day I could use my voice to make schools safer for children like me, the lost ones, the broken ones, the ones carrying too much.And yet, standing here in the airport, with my adoptive parents beside me, I felt like the same fractured girl who had run away years ago, bleeding invisible wounds.“Ready?” Rufus Henss, my adoptive father, asked, his deep voice cutting through my wandering thoughts. He looked older now, streaks of gray threaded through his dark hair, but his presence was still commanding, the kind of presence that made
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