~Elara~
Her smile turned warm, nostalgic. "You were so worried I'd be angry. You glued it back together and filled it with wildflowers you picked from the backyard."
The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. That memory was real, authentic.
"And when I was thirteen," I continued, "and had that terrible fight with Dad about the science fair project? What did you tell me that night?"
"That sometimes being right isn't enough," she replied without hesitation. "That you have to learn when to stand your ground and when to redirect the river."
My eyes burned with unshed tears. This was her—or at least, parts of her. Pieces of my mother preserved in digital amber.
"I miss you so much," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.
Her expression softened. "My sweet girl. My El
