Annie sat anxiously in Dr. Martinez’s office, surrounded by posters of happy families. The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a comforting demeanor, invited her to take a seat.

With a hopeful smile, Annie asked, “When can we proceed with the fertilization procedure?”

Dr. Martinez took a deep breath before replying, “Unfortunately, the tests show you cannot have children. I’m very sorry.”

Annie’s heart sank. Though she had considered IVF, the doctor advised against it due to low success rates and high risks. Instead, she suggested an alternative—adoption—and handed Annie a booklet filled with information and pictures of children needing homes.

Later, Annie sat at her kitchen table, enveloped in silence as she browsed the booklet. One photo captured her attention: a baby with an innocent, smiling face. With trembling hands, she picked up the phone and called the adoption agency, scheduling an appointment. A few days later, she met Caitlin, a social worker who welcomed Annie into her modest office. “Sorry you had to wait,” she said, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Annie replied, masking her nervousness.

They discussed Annie’s career, home life, and her desire to adopt. Caitlin asked, “Can you devote enough time to a child? It’s not just a few hours a day.”

“Yes, I understand. I’m ready to make sacrifices for my child,” Annie responded.

Caitlin nodded. “Adoption can be challenging, especially in the beginning,” she cautioned, but ultimately approved Annie’s application.

The following morning, Caitlin’s call interrupted Annie’s breakfast. “Hello, Annie?” she inquired.

“Yes, it’s me,” Annie replied.

“We’ve found a child for you,” Caitlin revealed, describing Abiona, a six-year-old from Congo who didn’t speak English. “Would you like to meet her today?”

Annie hesitated. “Six years old? No English? I… I need to think about this.”

“Of course, take all the time you need. Have a good day,” Caitlin responded, though Annie could sense her sigh before hanging up.

Annie spent the day contemplating the idea of adopting an older child. Traditionally, motherhood began with a baby, making the prospect of a six-year-old feel odd. But this might be her only chance. The next day, she called Caitlin with a firm yes, and the social worker arranged a visit with Abiona, who was staying with a foster family.

Arriving at the foster home, Annie knocked on the door, her heart racing. A woman greeted her, somewhat unfriendly, and said, “Hello, how’s it going?”

“Hi, I’m Annie,” she replied, fidgeting slightly. “I came to see Abiona.”

The woman led Annie inside, revealing a chaotic scene: kids ran around, the television blared, and clutter filled the living room. She pointed to a corner where Abiona sat quietly drawing. “That’s her. Good luck; she doesn’t talk to anyone,” she said before scolding other children.

Annie approached the girl, who met her gaze briefly before returning to her drawing. “Did you draw these yourself? They’re impressive,” she asked, kneeling down.

Abiona nodded slightly but remained silent. The foster mother interjected, “Don’t even try. She doesn’t understand a word of English.”

“That’s fine,” Annie replied, focusing on the girl. She sat beside her and began drawing as well, trying to communicate through pictures.

She drew a house and a stick figure with long hair, saying, “This is my house. I live here. Do you want to live with me?”

The girl stared at the paper, then at Annie, before drawing a smaller stick figure next to hers. Annie grinned, her heart fluttering.

Annie brought Abiona to her home, introducing her to her cozy new bedroom. The girl remained silent and observant as she explored. When she found paints and brushes, she immediately began drawing, humming a happy tune. Annie watched, thinking, I’m finally a mom, before joining her new daughter.

Over the following months, Annie attempted to teach Abiona English, but traditional methods overwhelmed her. Instead, she adapted her approach, using drawing sessions to teach language in a fun way. Abiona responded positively, slowly picking up words and phrases.

One day, while exploring the concept of family with a picture book, Annie pointed to an illustration. “See, this is a family,” she said, pointing to herself as “Mom” and to Abiona as “Daughter.”

Unexpectedly, Abiona burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asked, patting her head.

Abiona grabbed her drawings. “I have Mom and Dad,” she revealed, pointing at the paper. Annie’s eyes widened, realizing Caitlin had never mentioned Abiona’s family.

“What are you saying, honey?” she asked gently.

“Bad… bad men took me from Mom and Dad,” the girl continued.

Annie soothed her. “Okay, okay. Tell me more.”

Through broken English, Abiona explained that evil men had taken her, but then she was with the police. She showed Annie a handmade toy, her only memory of her biological mom.

“I little. Don’t know Mom’s face. But Mom smells honey. She give me this,” Abiona finished, biting her lip and wiping away a tear.

Annie felt her own emotions rising. A six-year-old shouldn’t bear such burdens alone. She hugged the girl tightly as Abiona sobbed into her chest, their bond deepening.

Months later, Abiona suffered a severe coughing fit at night. Annie rushed her to the hospital, crying, “I need help! My daughter, she can’t breathe!”

The medical team quickly attended to Abiona while Annie anxiously waited outside the exam room. After a while, Abiona was stabilized but surrounded by beeping machines that only heightened Annie’s fear. The horror intensified hours later when a doctor entered.

“I’m very sorry to tell you this, but Abiona is terminally ill. She only has a few days left,” he said carefully.

Annie’s heart shattered. “What? What’s wrong with her?”

The doctor explained her condition—complicated and baffling, leaving Annie in shock.

“Should I have noticed sooner? She seemed so healthy. I adopted her a few months ago. No one told me anything.”

“You couldn’t have done much even if you had noticed something. This is a genetic disease, manifesting unexpectedly. It’s not your fault,” the doctor concluded, offering a comforting pat before leaving.

An hour later, Abiona woke.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Annie whispered, squeezing her hand. “Is there anything you want? Anything I can get for you?”

“I want to see my mom,” Abiona murmured weakly.

Determined to fulfill this wish, Annie left the hospital with Abiona’s handmade toy, hoping it held clues to finding her biological mother. At the police station, they agreed to test the toy for DNA.

Miraculously, they found a match and provided Annie with Tendey’s contact information. After a few unanswered calls, Annie decided to visit Tendey in person.

Gathering her courage, Annie knocked on the door. When a woman appeared, Annie introduced herself and asked, “Tendey?”

“Yes, that’s me, but I don’t want to join your god or buy anything,” Tendey responded quickly, trying to close the door.

Annie blocked the door with her arm. “This is about Abiona. She’s in the hospital, terminally ill.”

Surprisingly, Tendey crossed her arms. “I gave her away voluntarily. So this isn’t my problem.”

“Please. She’s your daughter. She’s dying and wants to see you,” Annie pleaded.

Tendey shook her head. “I don’t want to see her. Deal with it.”

Noticing something inside the house, Annie asked, “Do you sell perfumes? A honey-scented one?”

“Yes,” Tendey replied, confused.

“How much?” Annie inquired.

Back home, Annie began developing her plan. She searched for an actress resembling Tendey and found Sarah. Annie explained the situation to her.

Sarah was touched. “I’ll do it. It’s a strange request, but it comes from a place of love,” she said. Annie provided all the details about Abiona and her mother.

The next day, in the hospital, Annie and the actress prepared to fulfill Abiona’s last wish. Sprayed with honey-scented perfume, Sarah approached Abiona’s bedside, gently holding her tiny hand.

“Abiona, this is your mother,” Annie softly introduced.

Abiona, whose condition had worsened dramatically, believed Annie’s words. “You smell like Mom,” she whispered, opening her arms for a hug.

“It’s because I am Mom,” Sarah replied.

Abiona turned to Annie. “Thank you,” she whispered before falling asleep again. Sarah left soon after, recognizing the girl wouldn’t wake for a while.

As the sun set, Annie watched over her daughter, whose breaths were heavy, the sound filling the quiet room. She whispered comfort and assurance amidst the soft beeping of machines.

At one point, Annie touched Abiona’s head and felt the warmth. In her weakened state, Abiona murmured “Mom” before drifting back into unconsciousness. Annie rushed to find her doctor, who entered, examined the girl, and lowered his head.

“I’m afraid this may be it,” he said gently.

“No!” Annie cried, embracing her child.

Abiona slept more soundly in Annie’s arms, but love wasn’t always enough. She passed after midnight, exhaling a final breath.

As tears flowed freely, Annie whispered, “You were loved. So loved. I’ll keep loving you forever.”