They were always different.
Liam was fire—stubborn, quick-witted, always ready to challenge.
Noah was steady—thoughtful, quiet, the one who held everything together.
We had our routines: Friday movie nights, pancakes before tests, and always a hug before leaving the house—even when they pretended to hate it.
When they got into the dual-enrollment program, I sat in my car after orientation and cried until my vision blurred.
We had made it.
Through everything—every sacrifice, every late night, every skipped meal.
We had made it.
