I fought cancer to hold my daughter again, but when I saw her at the fair, her words shattered me: “You’re not my mom. You’re just a bald lady.” I knew who was behind it.
Three years ago, I had to leave due to cancer. Nathan promised Hazel would stay with him until I got better, but I was too weak to fight back as the months went by. Visits grew scarce, and soon, there were no more calls, no more letters. Then I received divorce papers. Nathan had moved on, and full custody was granted to him.
I fought my way back, healthy again. But when I arrived at the house, Nathan’s new wife told me Hazel didn’t want to see me. She called her “Mom” now. My heart sank, but I couldn’t give up. I rushed to the fair, hoping to find her.
Amid the bustle, I spotted Hazel, but when I called her, she just stared at me. And then, with a trembling voice, she said, “You’re not my mom. You’re just a bald lady.” It felt like my world collapsed.
I sat in my apartment, clutching Hazel’s old teddy bear, questioning when I stopped being her mom. But then I saw her art contest submission—a drawing of the stars and a story we used to share. I knew she hadn’t forgotten me.
Determined, I prepared for the school event, my last chance. The room fell silent, and on the screen, a younger Hazel appeared, laughing on the kitchen counter. Would she remember? Would she care? I was about to find out.