"You can talk to me, Nora. I know you're getting older now, but I'm always going to be here whether you're seventeen or forty-seven."

"I know, Mom." I offer her a small smile and take a sip of orange juice, letting the darkness win again.

"So how does it feel to be another year older?"

I stare across the café table at Mom, sunlight streaming through the window catching the light strands in her hair.

"How am I feeling?" A small laugh escapes me. "Well, I'm not sure I feel any wiser now that I'm another year older."

She laughs softly, warmth in her eyes.

"You're wise beyond your years. Just like your father." A flicker of pain crosses her expression, quickly replaced with pride. "He'd be proud of the woman you are. There was never a day that went by that he wasn't proud of you."

The words hit like a physical blow. I'm not sure that's true anymore. The memory of our last interaction burns—slamming the door in his face, telling him to leave me alone, that he didn't understand. All the words I wish I could take back but know I can't. I was angry and I took it out on him.

Then he was gone.

"Nora?" Mom's voice pulls me back.

"Hmm?"

"Where did you go just now?"

I take a breath, the next question slipping out before I can stop it. "Mom, how did you know Dad was the one?"

A tender smile spreads across her face, carrying a lifetime of memories.

"It's simple, really," she says, her gaze growing distant yet soft. "He was my best friend." She speaks with the breathless enthusiasm of a teenager remembering first love, describing what it was like to fall for the person she knew would be forever.

"I think that's how you know someone's meant to be in your life forever. They're the person you feel safest with, the one who can see through every crack and still look at you like you could do no wrong." She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. "It's about finding someone who feels like home. Your dad, he was my home."

He was my home.

A familiar pair of hazel eyes flickers in my mind, and my heart skips.

I know someone who feels a little like that.

But he's also the storm, and I'm afraid that if I let him in, he'll pull me into depths I'm not sure I can handle.

Mom squeezes my hand again, bringing me back to the present.

"Your dad understood me in a way no one else did. It was like that from the start. Maybe that's what a soulmate really is—someone who sees you, even the parts you don't fully understand yet. And instead of telling you, they simply guide you to uncover those parts yourself when you're ready."