Elena’s POV

The stage lights were too bright.

I could feel the heat on my skin, the hum of cameras, the faint murmur of the audience behind the glare.

But under all that noise, my thoughts weren’t here.

They were with my daughter.

Aria.

No one else in this room would ever know what that name meant — or how much of me still lived in that memory. Every year, on her birthday, I used to light a candle and whisper to her.

She would have been eight this year.

“Mom, don’t cry anymore, ...