Ember Frost’s POV
I found myself staring at my mother's face, following every familiar line as if it were a mirror reflecting my future. The similarity between us was unmistakable, a gentle reminder of the importance of family ties. One day, I'd mature into her looks, with the same form of eyes and lips. But what I doubted I could ever inherit was the grace—the softness, the elegance—that seemed to radiate effortlessly from her.
My mother settled beside me on the bed, and we drifted into easy conversation. It had become her quiet ritual ever since the day I was brought back to her. I understood she was trying to heal the years we’d missed, filling the gaps with warmth and presence. The effort touched me deeply, and I savored the comfort of finally being treasured.
“Sweetheart, your body
