I shared my own struggles — the ex who left, the nights I fought back tears so my son wouldn’t hear.
“You kept going,” she said to me one afternoon.
“So can you,” I replied.
And she did.
Within months, Anna began volunteering at the children’s hospital, reading stories to young cancer patients. After each visit she’d call me, voice brighter than I’d ever heard. “One of the kids called me Aunt Anna today,” she said once, laughing through tears.