Emily remained like that for a long time, holding her mother’s hands in her own, as if she wanted to stop time, to prevent it from taking her away. The woman’s breathing was weak, almost imperceptible, but her smile remained. In her eyes shone weariness, pain, and infinite tenderness.

“I knew you would come,” the mother whispered in a barely audible voice.

—They wouldn’t let me… Clara said I couldn’t… that you shouldn’t see me.

The woman closed her eyes for a moment and smiled sadly.

—Clara… Yes. She thinks she can control everything. But there are things that can’t be stopped. Love… never.

Emily felt tears burning on her cheeks, but she tried to smile. She stroked her mother’s fragile hand, so delicate it seemed like glass.

—I’ve been thinking about you every day, Mom. I brought the bunny. Remember?

“Oh, my little bunny…” said the mother, touching the stuffed animal with trembling fingers. “Do you remember when I gave it to you?”

—Yes. It was snowing. You said you would watch over me while I slept.

—And did he?

—Yes… but I don’t want him to take care of me alone anymore. I want you to come back.

The mother sighed, a sigh so faint it blended into the silence. A tear rolled down her cheek.

—Emily, listen to me, my love… I won’t be able to stay much longer. My body is tired. But I won’t leave completely. A part of me will always be with you.

“No! I don’t want a part! I want you!” cried the girl, bursting into tears.

The mother stroked her hair with infinite tenderness.

—When I’m gone, look up at the sky, okay? No matter where you are. You’ll see a star that shines brighter than all the others. That will be me.

Emily nodded, sobbing.

“And promise me something,” the mother said, squeezing her hand with her last bit of strength. “Promise me that the world won’t make you cold. That you’ll keep loving, even when it hurts.”

“I promise, Mom,” Emily whispered through tears.

The door to the room opened carefully. A nurse entered, stopping when she saw the scene.

—Little one, you have to leave…

“Just one more minute, please!” Emily pleaded, still holding her mother’s hand.

The nurse hesitated for a second, then silently closed the door and left.

The mother stared at her, as if wanting to memorize every detail of her face.

—I love you more than I’ve ever been able to say. You have been my light, even in my darkest days.

Emily rested her forehead against hers.

—And I love you, Mom. More than anything.

Time seemed to stand still. Then, a final sigh, a slight movement… and everything was still. The mother’s hands gradually grew cold. Emily remained motionless, unable to move away.

The nurse came back and put a hand on his shoulder.

—He passed away peacefully.

But Emily didn’t answer. She stayed there until the light of dawn began to filter through the curtains.

When she finally got up, she looked at her mother’s face one last time. She seemed asleep, peaceful, free. Emily kissed her forehead and whispered:

—I will look for you among the stars.

Life went on in the hallway. People walked by, voices, laughter. The world kept turning, oblivious to the void that had opened up inside her. Emily left the hospital clutching the bunny to her chest.

At home, Clara was sitting in the living room with a cup of coffee.

“Where were you?” he asked coldly.

Emily didn’t answer. She walked past her in silence. Clara opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but she couldn’t. The girl’s silence weighed too heavily.

In her room, Emily sat by the window. The sky was pale and still. She looked up, searching for something. The stars hadn’t appeared yet, but she knew they were there. She clutched the bunny to her chest and whispered:

—Take care of me, Mom. I’ll look for you every night.

The days passed as if through a fog. People came, talked, left flowers. Emily didn’t hear. When they buried her mother, she stayed behind, alone, staring at the small mound covered with white roses.

Clara approached.

—We have to go. It’s cold.

“Why didn’t you let me see her?” Emily asked without looking at her. “Why did you say I couldn’t?”

Clara remained silent. For a moment, something resembling guilt appeared in her eyes.

—I thought I was protecting you…

—No. You just wanted to pretend I didn’t exist.

Emily turned around and started walking away. Clara stayed behind, speechless.

Months passed. Spring arrived, then summer. Emily had grown up suddenly. She was no longer the frightened little girl she once was. Every night she went out into the garden and gazed at the sky. Sometimes she murmured something, as if someone could hear her.

One night, when the air smelled of grass and rain, a star suddenly shone brighter than all the others. Emily smiled.

—I found you, Mom.

In the large, silent house, Clara watched from the window. In the little girl’s smile there was something she had never known: peace.

And Emily understood, at last, what her mother had meant to tell her: that true love never dies . It only changes form; it hides in the light, in memories, in the sky.

Sometimes all it takes is looking at a single star to know that you are not alone.

That night, Emily fell asleep with the bunny beside her. And for the first time in a long time, she dreamed. In the dream, her mother was waiting for her in a field covered with flowers, smiling. Her voice, soft and warm, said:

—See, my love? I never really leave.