Emma was soon placed with a foster family, and though it felt like losing her too, she kept her promise to visit every week. When it was my turn to leave, I didn’t want to go—but Liam reassured me, “We’ll always stay together.” And somehow, we did.
Though we grew up in different homes, we stayed close. We met at the park after school, dreamed together, and reminded each other of the vow we’d made. At sixteen, Liam began working—doing any job he could find. Emma joined him when she was old enough, saving every dollar. When I turned eighteen, we rented a tiny apartment and began living together again, sharing one room and a dream.
It took years of hard work, sacrifice, and determination. But finally, we stood together in a lawyer’s office, signing the papers to buy back our family’s café. It needed repairs, but the spirit of our parents lived in every brick, every corner.
We poured our hearts into rebuilding. Soon, the café was alive again, not just with food and coffee, but with love. Customers returned, drawn to the same welcoming spirit our parents had once shared.
Eventually, we did something we never imagined—we bought back our childhood home. Walking through the front door, memories came rushing back: Mom’s laughter, Dad’s calming voice, the smell of home-cooked meals.
Emma wiped away tears. “They should be here,” she said.
“They are,” Liam whispered.
Now, each of us has a family of our own. But every weekend, we gather at that house for dinner, laughter, and gratitude. Liam always raises a glass and says, “Only through unity can a family overcome anything. We proved it. Mom and Dad would be proud.”
And in my heart, I know he’s right.