Rick adjusted Grayson's blanket in his stroller, ensuring the baby was warm before stepping outside. "Alright, buddy. Let's go get some fresh air." Grayson cooed softly, his tiny hands grasping the air as Rick chuckled.

Jim watched them from the doorway, smiling as Rick maneuvered the stroller onto the elevator. "That man adores that kid," he murmured, stepping back inside. Standing beside him, Kate nodded, a soft expression crossing her face.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "He really does."

As the front door closed behind them, Kate turned toward Sara, who was already settled on the couch, a pile of old photographs on the coffee table before her. Jim sat nearby, his expression a mix of nostalgia and quiet sorrow. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the stacks of albums and loose pictures spread across the coffee table.

Kate picked up a faded photo of their mother, Joanna, standing in the kitchen, a flour-dusted apron tied around her waist. She smiled wistfully. "She loved to cook big breakfasts on Sundays. Pancakes, eggs, bacon—the works. It was her way of bringing us all together."

Sara traced a finger over the photo, her eyes misting. "Was she a good cook?"

"The best," Kate smiled. "I'll have to make breakfast this Sunday and share her apple fritter recipe."

Jim, seated beside them, squeezed Sara's hand. "She would have loved you, Sara. She had such a big heart, and she always believed strongly in the importance of family. If she were here, she'd be so proud of both of you."

Kate nodded, emotion thick in her voice. "She had this way of making even the most ordinary days feel special. I remember one summer, she and Dad took me on a road trip upstate. She made us stop at every roadside fruit stand to pick the best peaches. She made the best peach cobbler."

Sara let out a soft laugh. "Sounds like something I would do. I used to love to bake."

Jim chuckled. "She had a gift for turning small moments into something meaningful. Just like we're doing right now."

As they flipped through the last of the photo albums, a comfortable silence settled over the room. Kate traced a finger along the edge of a worn page, her thoughts lingering on her mother. The weight of all the missing years between her and Sara was heavy, but the need to connect—to bridge the gap—was stronger.

As the last of the photo albums were carefully stacked away, Kate leaned back against the couch, a wistful smile still lingering on her lips. "It's strange how a single photograph can bring back so much."

Sara nodded, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of an old picture. "Memories have a way of anchoring us. And so do words."

The sisters spent the next hour delving into their shared love of literature. Sara introduced Kate to her favorite poetry, reading verses aloud in her soft, measured voice. "There's something healing in words," Sara said, her eyes lighting up as she recited a stanza. Kate listened, feeling a deeper sense of their mother in Sara's passion for language and expression.

Kate listened, enthralled, realizing how much she had missed out on with Sara. "I love that," she murmured. "Maybe we should start reading poetry to Grayson. Give him a love for words early."

Sara smiled. "I think he'd enjoy that."

Later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, their conversation shifted to Grayson's future. They talked about everything—his schooling, when they would tell him about his father, and which of their mother's keepsakes he should inherit.

Sara ran a hand over a delicate silver locket in one of the boxes. "I want him to have this when he's older," she said softly. "Something of mine, so he knows where he comes from."

Kate nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "He'll know you, Sara. Through stories, through memories. We won't let him forget."

Jim reached over, resting a reassuring hand on Sara's arm. "And he'll always have us."

Sara's eyes shone with gratitude. "That means everything to me."

As Kate helped Sara sit up a little more comfortably on the couch when a gentle knock at the door drew their attention. Kate smiled knowingly before glancing at Sara. "That'll be Aunt Teresa."

Jim stood to answer it, revealing a woman with warm eyes and a presence that exuded familiarity and strength. Teresa had been a steady part of Kate's life , the one who had told her the truth about the sister she never knew she had. The two had stayed close over the years, but today was the first time she would be meeting Sara face-to-face. Sara had wanted to wait to meet her aunt since she was overwhelmed with everything else happening in her life.

"Aunt Teresa," Kate greeted warmly, stepping forward to give her a brief but tight hug. "Come in." Joanna's younger sister had always been a character.

Sara took in her aunt, realizing that this woman had not only known about her existence but had been the keeper of a truth that had shaped both their lives.

"Sara," Teresa said softly, stepping inside. "I've wanted to meet you for so long."

Jim moved aside, letting Teresa settle into the chair beside Sara. "I'll give you girls some time," he murmured before retreating to the kitchen.

Sara tilted her head. "So, you knew about me?"

Teresa nodded. "Joanna told me everything. She was so young when she had you, scared but determined. She moved in with a friend's family in Boston to have you, took a semester off from college while our parents thought she was studying abroad in London."

Kate, perched on the armrest of the couch, knew much of this already, but hearing Teresa speak it aloud—especially now, with Sara sitting beside her—made it feel even more real. She stayed quiet, letting Teresa offer the story in her own words. "Your father… he was a senior studying chemical engineering, someone she truly believed cared about her. But after one night together, he shut her out completely. He refused to acknowledge paternity. Joanna was heartbroken. She wanted so badly to give you the life she thought you deserved—a home with two parents who could give you everything she feared she couldn't."

Sara swallowed hard, absorbing the truth. "She gave me up because she thought it was best."

Teresa nodded, reaching for Sara's hand. "It was the hardest thing she ever did. But she never forgot you. Every year on your birthday, she called me so she could talk about you—her hopes, her dreams for your life. She loved you, Sara. More than you could ever know."

Tears welled in Sara's eyes, and she squeezed Teresa's hand. "Thank you for telling me. I always wondered… and now, I know."

Just as the room fell into a peaceful silence, the opening of the front door brought Kate and Sara's attention toward the entryway. Rick walked in pushing an empty stroller, a beaming Grayson nestled in his arms, wrapped snugly in his blanket. The baby cooed, his bright eyes scanning the room as if eager to share his adventure.

Teresa smiled gently and, after a brief pause, turned her gaze to the small bundle in Rick's arms as he stepped back inside the apartment, carrying Grayson. "And this little guy," Teresa said, reaching out to brush a soft curl away from Grayson's forehead, "looks so much like Kate did when she was a baby. It's uncanny."

Kate let out a soft laugh. "Well, that makes sense. Sara and I look alike, so I guess it follows that Grayson and I do too."

Jim chuckled as he took Grayson from Rick's arms, cradling him gently. "Joanna would have loved that. She used to say that strong genes ran in her family."

Teresa nodded, her eyes softening as she watched Kate fuss over Grayson.

Jim added, "She would've been so proud to see all of us with her grandson."

Sara looked fondly at her family. The color in her face had paled noticeably over the past few days, her movements slower, her breath slightly more labored. Every minor exertion seemed to sap her energy, and it made Kate's heart ache to witness it. Each day seemed to take a little more from her, and though Sara never complained, it was apparent. Kate pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

Jim glanced down at Grayson, who was fighting to keep his eyes open, the excitement of the day wearing on him. "Seems like someone's ready for bed."

Kate nodded, scooping Grayson up into her arms. "I'll get him settled."

As she carried Gray toward the nursery, Rick's voice followed softly behind her. "That kid is something special."

Kate paused for just a second, glancing back at him with a knowing smile. "Yeah. He really is. And so are you, Rick."

Rick's eyes softened, and for a moment, there was nothing but quiet understanding between them.

As Kate disappeared down the hall, Sara leaned back against the couch, exhaustion creeping into her expression. Jim reached over and gently took her hand. "How are you feeling?"

Sara exhaled. "Tired but happy. Today was a good day."

Jim nodded. "That's what matters."

Rick settled into the chair across from them, his usual playfulness subdued. "You ever think about how much Joanna would've loved all of this?"

Sara's smile was bittersweet. "Every day. But I think she's here in all the little ways. In the way, Kate takes care of everyone. In the way, Grayson already loves adventure."

Jim squeezed Sara's hand. "And in how we're all here—together."

Teresa smiled warmly, looking between them. "That's what Joanna always wanted—for her girls to find their way back to each other. She worried so much about you, Sara. Even though she believed she made the right decision, it never stopped hurting her. But seeing you all here now, I know she would feel at peace."

Sara blinked away tears, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hope she knows I don't blame her. That I understand."

Kate emerged from the nursery after settling Grayson down, the soft creak of the door announcing her return to the living room. She walked over to the couch, settling beside Sara once more before reaching for her hand, squeezing it gently. "She knows, Sara. And she'd be so proud of the woman you've become. Just like we are."

A comfortable silence settled over them, the weight of loss still present but the warmth of family even stronger. And for the first time in a long while, despite the uncertainty of the future, there was peace.