When my sister passed away unexpectedly, her sweet seven-year-old daughter suddenly had nowhere to go. My heart broke for her confusion and fear, so I asked my husband if we could take her in. He hesitated, worried we weren’t ready for such a big responsibility. His words stung, and I felt torn between my marriage and my niece. In the end, she entered foster care, and I carried quiet guilt ever since.
Years slipped by, each one reminding me of the little girl who once held my hand. I wondered about her birthdays, her school days, and whether she felt loved. My husband and I grew older, wiser, and far more aware of the choices we made. I wished I could turn back time and fight harder. But life doesn’t always give second chances — or so I thought.
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