Ayla POV
The pink lady's slipper refused to leave my mind. Not the flower itself. What it meant.
I had spent twenty-one years believing my father hadn't wanted me.
That had always been the simplest explanation. Easier than imagining he simply... forgot. Easier than hoping every birthday that maybe this year he'd send a card, only to spend another evening pretending it hadn't mattered. Easier than watching my mother quietly remove the extra place she'd set at the table before I came home from school.
If he didn't want me, at least there was logic in it.
It hurt, but at least it made sense.
The flower ruined that.
A pink lady's slipper. Anyone else would've assumed it represented New Hampshire. I certainly had. But Lily hadn't. She'd recognized something infinitely more specific.
My
