As I drove away from my mother’s house, I glanced at Hannah in the rearview mirror. She was engrossed in a book, her expression calm yet focused. It amazed me how resilient she was, how quickly she adapted to change. Her spirit, unbroken by the events of recent days, inspired me to be strong.

We settled into a small apartment on the edge of town. It wasn’t much, but it was ours, a place where we could start anew.

I decorated Hannah’s room first, letting her choose the colors and decorations. She picked bright yellow for the walls, insisting it was the color of sunshine and happiness. We spent the weekend painting, laughter echoing off the empty walls as we splattered paint in our hair and on our clothes.

The following weeks were a blur of adjustments: new routines, new schools, new friends. Each day, Hannah left for school with a wide smile, returning with stories of her adventures and the new friends she was making. Watching her thrive was the reassurance I needed that we were on the right path.