As I sorted the diary, I found a folded piece of paper tucked between pages she had never shown me.
"My Aarohi, if one day I forget your name or your face, know that I have loved you endlessly. Live your life fully. Teach others to love too. I will always be with you, in whispers, in warmth, in the little things you carry with you."
I pressed it to my lips, letting the tears soak the paper. Every word was a lifeline. Every sentence a soft echo of the mother who had made me feel safe, even when the world was cruel.
For hours, I read and reread it, each time finding new layers of love, fear, and hope. I realized she had planned for me to survive without her, to live even when she could not remember me. Her love was not lost; it had merely transformed.