Eliza’s eyes fluttered open.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who’s staying.”
Maeve stirred. “Are you a nurse?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m just someone who believes tomorrow’s coming.”
Nora whispered, “Everyone treats us like we’re already gone.”
Claire knelt beside her.
“I don’t see death when I look at you. I see three girls who still have fight left—and I’m not giving up.”
That night, she sang them a soft lullaby.
For the first time in months, they slept without fear.
In the darkness, Claire whispered,
“I couldn’t save you, Lillian… but I’ll save them.”
And God—who sees every tear, every prayer—was already moving.
What Ethan didn’t know was that in three days, everything would change.
The next morning, Ethan woke to a sound he hadn’t heard in over a year.
Laughter.
Soft. Fragile. But real.
He rushed down the hall.
Sunlight poured into the medical wing—windows uncovered for the first time in months.
Claire stood beside Eliza’s bed, holding a hairbrush like a microphone, singing terribly on purpose.
Eliza was smiling.
Maeve clapped weakly.
Even Nora’s eyes were open.
Ethan froze.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“We’re having breakfast,” Claire said. “The girls wanted music.”
“They’re supposed to be resting!”