Sarah wanted to cross the room. She wanted to hold her, kiss her forehead, and tell her that everything was over.
But something in Emily's expression made her pause.
Seven years had passed. Sarah knew what those years had done to her own heart, but she did not know what they had meant for her daughter.
She did not know what Emily remembered, what she feared, or whether physical affection would feel comforting or overwhelming.
So Sarah took a small step forward and asked the simplest question she could think of.
“Can I sit with you?”
Emily nodded.
Sarah sat beside her, leaving a little space between them.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Emily looked at her and said quietly, “You came.”
Sarah felt something break open inside her.
“Of course I came, sweetheart.”
Emily began to cry.
Sarah reached out slowly, allowing her daughter time to respond. When Emily leaned toward her, Sarah wrapped her arms around her gently.
It was not the dramatic reunion the town had imagined. There were no cheering crowds, no triumphant speeches, and no immediate answers to the questions that had haunted the family.