---

The next morning, after what felt like the longest, heaviest sleep I've had in months, I woke up to something that didn't quite feel real.

Peach cobbler French toast.

The smell hit me before I even opened my eyes—sweet peaches simmering with cinnamon, brown sugar caramelizing in butter, and the soft warmth of vanilla and bread in the air.

I blinked into the morning light, confused for a second.

Then it hit me like a memory I didn't ask for.

Georgia.

Mama and Papa.

The good days—before the chaos, before the foster homes, before grief buried everything soft.

I sat up slowly, the bed creaking beneath me. My throat felt tight, but not in a bad way. Just... full.

It had been so long since I smelled that.

So long since it didn't feel like a memory but something real.

I pulled on my hoodie and made my way downstairs, still groggy, heart tiptoeing between warmth and sadness.

Mom was at the stove, her back turned, flipping slices of golden toast onto a plate and spooning warm peaches over the top. The pan sizzled gently in the quiet kitchen.

She looked over her shoulder when she heard me.

"Morning, Emily," she said, smiling. "I thought you could use something special today."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"You haven't made this since..."
I paused, then blinked.
"Wait... you've never made this before."

Mom gave a soft smile, still focused on the pan. "I know. But I remembered you said your Mama used to. Thought maybe I'd give it a try."

I sat down slowly, hands folded in my lap, watching the syrupy peaches bubble on the stove.

The smell was almost too much in the best way possible—sweet, warm, full of a kind of comfort I hadn't tasted since Georgia.

It didn't smell like this house.
It smelled like memory.
Like a life that felt far away and too close at the same time.

Not this home.
But the kind of home that stays lodged in your chest.
The kind that survives you.
The kind you never really lose.

Outside, I caught a flash of motion through the window.

Mia and Jasmine were in the backyard, dodging between the flowerbeds with Sam and Lily.
Lily had her foam sword again, chasing Sam around like she was guarding a castle.
Mia was trying to keep up, barefoot in the grass, while Jasmine spun in circles with a plastic frisbee like she was auditioning for chaos.

Their laughter drifted through the open window.

It didn't erase last night.

But it softened it.

Mom set a plate in front of me—thick slices of golden French toast stacked high, dripping with warm peach syrup and just a dusting of cinnamon sugar.

I looked up at her.

"Thanks, Mom."

She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"You've had more than your share of hard mornings," she said. "Figured it was time you had a sweet one."

I took a bite.

Warm. Sweet. Just the right amount of soft and crisp. The peaches melted into the bread like syrup and memory at the same time.

For a minute, I didn't say anything.

Neither did Mom.

She just sat down across from me with her own plate, hands wrapped around her coffee mug, eyes soft but not pushing.

The silence wasn't awkward.

It was full.

After a moment, she looked at me gently. "You don't have to talk about it. But if you want to... I've always wondered."

I knew what she meant.

Georgia.

Mama and Papa.

The time before.

I stared down at my plate, watching syrup trail off the edge of the toast.

"I remember the food," I said quietly. "Biscuits. Peach jam. Cornbread so sweet it felt like dessert."

Mom smiled, but didn't interrupt.

"And I remember Papa's laugh. It was really low, kind of rumbly. Like the sound you feel in your chest instead of your ears."

I paused.

"And Mama... she was complicated."

Mom nodded, still quiet.

"She had good days," I added. "Sometimes. Like when we made cookies and danced to music on the radio while they baked. That part was real. The rest was..."

I trailed off. I didn't have to finish it.

She reached across the table and gently took my hand.

"You don't have to explain," she said softly. "I know she hurt you. I don't need the details to know that what you survived matters."

I blinked hard, suddenly feeling the sting behind my eyes again—but I didn't cry this time.

Instead, I squeezed her hand.

"She used to make this, you know," I whispered. "The peach cobbler French toast. On good days. This... was one of the only things that ever made her feel like my Mama."

Mom's hand tightened around mine.

"Well," she said, smiling through her own tears, "then maybe I'll make it for you every time we need to remember the good days—and forget the bad ones for a while."

I nodded.

I took another bite—sticky, sweet, peach-dripping—and laughed, the sound surprising even me.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I went frog hunting and almost got attacked by an alligator?"

Mom blinked. "What?"

I grinned, chewing. "And Papa shot it. Right there."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"We ended up having gator tail for dinner that night," I said, nodding like it was no big deal. "Which, by the way, was not one of Mama's favorite things to cook."

Mom started laughing—really laughing. The kind where she had to set her coffee down so she didn't spill it. "No, you have not told me that!"

I leaned back in my chair and smirked. "Well... yeah. That was pretty much it. I went looking for frogs. Found a gator instead. Papa took care of it. Dinner was weird that night."

Mom wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Okay, we are absolutely never skipping your childhood stories again.

"Yeah," I said. "She had a way."

And just like that, the memory didn't hurt.
It just was.

A little messy. A little wild.
Kind of like the Georgia swamp I used to call home.
Kind of like the toast.
Kind of like life.

"You should tell Sam and Lily sometime," Mom said. "They'd eat that up."

I laughed. "Yeah, they'd never believe half the stuff that happened back in Georgia. Swamp life doesn't exactly sound real when you've only ever known sidewalks and Target runs."

Mom smiled, shaking her head. "You really grew up in a whole different world."

I nodded, eyes drifting toward the window, where sunlight filtered through the glass. "It was loud. Muddy. Smelled like wet moss most days. And there were frogs everywhere. Like, everywhere. But it was home. At least... when things were good."

She didn't say anything. She just looked at me with that kind of gentle understanding only she could give.

And just like that, the memory didn't hurt.
It just was.

A little messy. A little wild.
Kind of like the swamp I came from.
Kind of like that toast.
Kind of like life.

Mom gave my hand one last squeeze, then stood to rinse her plate.

I sat there for another moment, soaking in the last of the warmth from the toast and the conversation, before sliding my chair back.

"I'm gonna head outside," I said softly.

Mom looked over and smiled. "They've been waiting for you."

I nodded, then made my way to the back door. As soon as I stepped out, the sunlight hit my face, warm and bright, and I could hear the chaos before I even saw it.

Lily was shrieking with laughter as she chased Sam around the yard with a foam sword, yelling something about him being a traitor to the "Marshmallow Kingdom."

Mia was sprawled out on a blanket in the grass, throwing popcorn at birds and missing every time.

And Jasmine was on her hands and knees, halfway into a bush, for reasons I wasn't sure I wanted to ask.

They all looked up when they saw me.

"There she is!" Jasmine called out, popping her head up with leaves in her hair.

"Took you long enough," Mia added, scooting over to make space on the blanket. "We thought the French toast had claimed you."

"I told you she wasn't coming back," Sam said dramatically.

Lily just grinned and held out a second foam sword. "Wanna duel?"

I laughed and stepped off the porch. "You sure you're ready for this, Lily?"

She nodded seriously, gripping her foam sword like a knight preparing for battle. "I was born ready."

"Okay then," I said, grabbing the other sword. "But don't cry when I win."

Sam immediately backed away with his hands up. "I want no part in this."

Jasmine sat back on her heels, brushing leaves from her hoodie. "I'm calling it now—Lily's gonna take you out in, like, two swings."

"She has the energy of a raccoon on soda," Mia added, tossing another piece of popcorn and hitting herself in the shoulder. "That's unstoppable."

Lily lunged, and I jumped back, laughing as the foam blade barely missed my arm. "Okay, okay! No warm-up? Just straight to battle?"

"Real knights don't warm up!" she shouted, chasing me across the grass.

Sam groaned. "Real knights don't wear glittery light-up sneakers either."

"They do now!" she yelled back, giggling.

I circled around the garden bed, ducked behind a lawn chair, then leapt out and tapped Lily's shoulder with the tip of my sword.

"Ha! Got you!"

She gasped, wide-eyed and dramatic. "You've defeated me... for now."

Then she fell back onto the grass, sticking her tongue out like a cartoon villain who would absolutely return in the sequel.

"I like her style," Jasmine said, flopping down onto the blanket next to Mia.

I dropped next to them, breathless but smiling.

The grass was cool against my legs. The sky above was a pale blue, soft with morning sun. Everyone was talking over each other again, sharing nonsense stories and daring each other to eat one of Mia's "experimental" trail mix combos.

"Emily!"

I turned toward the back door as Mom called out, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"That was your doctor on the phone. You're due for a checkup—something about a routine visit now that you're in your fourth month."

Everything around me paused for a beat.

Mia stopped mid-sentence.
Jasmine looked over, eyes wide.
Lily gasped like someone had just spoiled the ending of her favorite cartoon.
Sam blinked and said, "Wait. That's now?!"

I stood up slowly, brushing grass from my jeans. I'd known it was coming, but somehow hearing "fourth month" out loud made it real in a new way. Like the clock had moved without asking me.

"Yeah, okay," I said, not really sure who I was answering.

"Want me to come with you?" Mia offered, already sitting up straighter.

Jasmine nodded. "Same. We can fit in the car. Right? Right, Emily?"

I gave a soft laugh. "Let me find out what time it is first before we all pile in like a clown car."

Lily stood up and pointed at my stomach like she was announcing a royal decree. "Does that mean the baby's, like, the size of a watermelon now?"

Sam made a face. "That is not how that works."

I rolled my eyes. "Closer to an avocado."

Mia grinned. "A sassy little avocado. That tracks."

Jasmine stretched out on the blanket and gave me a playful smirk. "So... do you get, like, a badge or something for hitting four months?"

"Yeah," Mia chimed in. "They mail you a sticker that says 'Still Nauseous But Alive.'"

I laughed, but it was the kind that felt a little too real.

Sam picked up a handful of popcorn and tossed it at Lily, who was still looking at me like she expected my stomach to grow three sizes before her eyes. "So when does it start kicking?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Soon, I think? They said probably around now or a little later."

Mia looked thoughtful. "You nervous about the checkup?"

I hesitated. "A little. I mean, they said everything looked fine last time. But now it's all starting to feel... real. Like, this is really happening. It's not just a 'maybe someday' thing anymore."

Jasmine sat up and reached for my hand. "You don't have to do it alone, you know. Not ever."

I gave her a small smile. "I know."

Behind us, Mom called again, this time a little more gently. "Whenever you're ready, honey."

I turned back to the group. "I'll be right back."

As I walked toward the house, I could still hear them talking behind me—mostly Lily asking if babies come out talking and Sam trying to convince her they came out doing math.

I stepped into the kitchen, where Mom was already pouring water into a to-go bottle and flipping through a notepad.

She looked up when I entered. "They want to see you this week—just a routine check. I can take you whenever works best."

I leaned against the counter, suddenly quieter. "It's weird."

"What is?"

"Four months," I said. "That's, like... a third of the way."

Mom nodded slowly, her voice soft. "I remember. That's around when it stopped feeling like a secret and started feeling like a future."

That hit harder than I expected.

I looked down at my hands. "I don't know if I'm ready for all of it. But... I think I want to hear what they say. I want to know if everything's okay."

Mom reached out and gently brushed my hair back behind my ear. "Then we'll go. You and me."

I nodded.

Just me and her.

And the little life growing quietly inside me.

As I stepped back outside, the first thing I heard was Lily's voice, loud and matter-of-fact:

"I wish I was pregnant!"

Everyone froze.

Jasmine nearly dropped her water bottle.
Sam spun around like he'd misheard.
Mia actually clapped a hand over her mouth.

"What did you just say?" I asked, walking toward her.

Lily stood with her hands on her hips, completely unbothered. "I said I wish I was pregnant. Then I could go to the doctor and get special food and stuff."

I blinked. "Lily. You're nine."

"Nine and almost ten," she said proudly, flipping her hair like that made it more reasonable.

"Yeah, well, ten is still too young. Don't even think about it."

She frowned. "But it sounds kinda fun."

"Trust me," I said, flopping back onto the blanket beside her, "you wouldn't like it. You'd be tired all the time, your back would hurt, your stomach would hurt, everything would hurt... and people stare at you weird."

Mia added, "Also, you can't ride rollercoasters. Or drink soda. Or sleep through the night."

"And no jumping on trampolines," Jasmine said. "Which for you is basically a death sentence."

Lily's eyes got wider with every sentence.

"Oh," she said after a long pause. "Never mind then."

"Good," I said, pointing at her. "Stick to being nine-and-almost-ten. That's your job right now."

She plopped down beside me. "Fine. But I still want snacks."

Sam tossed a popcorn kernel at her head. "That you can have."

Lily sat back on her heels, clearly still processing everything we'd said. Then, suddenly, her eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch.

"Wait... rollercoasters!"

We all looked at her.

"What about them?" Sam asked warily.

"I forgot!" she gasped, springing to her feet. "I've been wanting to go to Valleyfair!"

She spun around dramatically. "You said we couldn't go earlier this year because it was too cold, and then the baby stuff happened, and school, and—"

"Lily," I said, already laughing, "what does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing! But now I remembered!"

And before any of us could say another word, she took off running toward the house at full speed.

"MOM!" we heard her shout from the porch. "CAN WE GO TO VALLEYFAIR!"

Mia snorted. "Well. That escalated."

Jasmine shook her head. "I give it three minutes before she makes a PowerPoint."

Sam nodded solemnly. "With glitter transitions."

I just laid back on the blanket, staring up at the sky, smiling to myself as Lily's voice echoed through the house.

And just like that, I had a feeling our summer plans were about to get... loud.