The following day, Ayana woke to the warmth of a blanket covering herself as her head rested on the bed beside her daughter. She looked around the room, but there was no one. To the angel that brought the blanket, she was grateful.
As Ayana gazed at her daughter's peaceful face, a wave of self-blame crashed over her like a relentless tide. In the stillness of the room, the weight of her emotions threatened to engulf her. She felt a heavy ache in her chest, a painful reminder of her perceived shortcomings as a mother. The sight of her daughter, so innocent and vulnerable, stirred a deep sense of responsibility within her.
Reaching out, Ayana gently clasped her daughter's tiny hand in her own, the contrast between their sizes serving as a stark reminder of her role as a protector and nurtu
