I sat beside her and pulled the blanket over her shoulders.
For a few minutes, we talked about school, a friend’s upcoming birthday party, and a book she wanted to buy.
Then she wrapped her arms around my neck.
I hugged her tightly, grateful for the familiar closeness.
When she pulled away, she looked at me with a thoughtful expression.
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
She hesitated.
Then she asked, “Since Sarah already does almost everything a mother does, why can’t she just be my mother too?”
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
I stared at her, searching her face for some sign that I had misunderstood.
But she looked completely innocent.
She was not trying to punish me.
She genuinely did not understand.
I forced my voice to remain steady.
“Well, she is your stepmother. But I’m your mother.”
Emma frowned.
“But what’s the difference if she does all the mom things?”
