Scarlett

The guest quarters were bathed in a gentle silver glow from the moonlight as Mother and I sat on the balcony, wrapped in thick shawls and memories.

The cool air carried the scent of pine and distant bonfires. But in her warmth, I felt safe and peaceful in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

She brushed my hair like she used to when I was a child.

“Do you remember how you used to sneak into my room with your blanket?” she asked.

I smiled. “You always left the door open for me. I thought it was magic.”

“It was,” she whispered. “You were my magic.”

A lump...