Because now…
I finally knew.
Bria wasn’t my daughter.
She was someone else’s child—who just happened to carry echoes of the one I lost.
And somehow…
That gave me the closure I never had.
A week later, I stood outside the school.
I watched Lulu run toward Bria.
They laughed, hugged, walked inside together—indistinguishable from behind.
My heart tightened.
Then… it softened.
Because for the first time in three years—
I felt something new.
Not grief.
Not fear.
But peace.
I didn’t get my daughter back.
But I finally got to say goodbye.
And sometimes…
That’s what healing looks like.
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