Haylie POV
I stepped through the door and found myself in another memory, one I hadn't revisited in years. The surroundings told me I was in a hospital.
My ears caught the sound of crying, and instinctively, I turned toward the source. There, I saw Mathew holding the little me—just five years old—in his arms. My eyes widened at the scene unfolding before me.
Aunt Camelia was standing nearby, tears streaming down her face. Aunt Amora and Uncle Jacob were there too, their expressions heavy with grief. It hit me then—this was the night my mother died. My breath caught as the memory came flooding back, sharp and vivid. I remembered how Mathew had crouched down to my level that night, his voice steady but soft, telling me, "You must always remember, you are not alone. Everything is going to be okay."
