So they ran. The emergency turned out to be a false alarm—a patient had just had a panic attack. But on the way back, they started talking. Adam was an interesting conversationalist: smart, with a good sense of humor and a certain lightness that Molly often lacked.
“Coffee?” he offered when they reached the nurses’ station. “I’m on my break.”
“Are you?”
“In ten minutes.”
“I’ll wait.”
The coffee was from a vending machine, bitter and awful, but Molly didn’t even notice. She was looking at Adam and feeling something strange. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Interest. Attraction. A desire to know more.
“Have you been working here long?” he asked.
“Two years. You?”
“Three. But I just transferred to this wing. Do you like it?”
“I love it. Great team. And the patients are always interesting.”
“I agree.”
They smiled at each other—at the same time, in the same way, as if they’d known each other for years.
It started slowly but surely. Lunches together, coffee on breaks, chance encounters that became less and less coincidental. Molly didn’t rush things; she was happy in this in-between stage, more than friends but not quite a couple yet. Adam didn’t seem to be in a hurry either. He courted her in an old-fashioned way: bringing her flowers, opening doors, walking her home. He didn’t pressure her or make demands; he was just there.
“He’s a good man,” Vera said when Molly finally brought him to a family dinner. “You can tell.”
“How can you tell?”
“His eyes. His hands. The way he looks at you.”
David was more reserved—a father’s prerogative, even if not by blood. He talked to Adam for a long time about work, about his plans, about other things Molly couldn’t hear. Afterward, he came over to her and said quietly:
“I approve. But if he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
“David.”
“What? It’s my right.”
She laughed and hugged him.
“Thank you. For everything.”
The wedding was a year later, in the summer. It was small, just a hundred people, at the same country club where David and Kira had gotten married. Molly chose the venue on purpose; she wanted to rewrite the memory, to make it her own.
“Are you sure?” Vera asked when she found out. “So much happened there.”
“That’s why. I want this place to be associated with something good. With us.”
Vera looked at her for a long moment, then smiled.
“You’ve grown up. You’re really all grown up.”
“It’s about time. I’m twenty-six.”
“I don’t mean your age. I mean your wisdom.”
The wedding was perfect, or almost perfect—Mikey managed to drop the cake while carrying it to the table. But everyone just laughed, they ordered a new one, and the party went on. Molly danced with Adam, with David, with Mikey, who was now taller than she was. She looked at her mother, who was radiant with happiness, at her friends who had come to celebrate, at the new life that was beginning. And she thought about how strange fate could be. How one moment, one choice, could change everything. How a little girl with a red scarf, crawling across the ice, had no idea she was doing something so important. She was just doing what felt right.
A year later, their daughter was born. They named her Sophie, after Molly’s grandmother, the one who had knitted that very scarf. She was tiny, with Molly’s eyes and Adam’s smile. Perfect.
“Are you happy?” Adam asked as the three of them sat in the hospital room: him, her, and Sophie in her arms.
“Yes,” Molly answered. “Very.”
“Me too.” He kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything. For being you. For choosing me. For this miracle.” He nodded at Sophie, who was sleeping soundly. “Our miracle.”
“I know.”
“But thank you anyway.”
Molly looked at him, at their daughter, at the sunlight streaming through the window, and thought that life was an amazing thing. Unpredictable, difficult, sometimes cruel. But if you make the right choices, or at least try to, it can be beautiful.
Years passed. Sophie grew, first crawling, then walking, then running and talking nonstop. Molly worked, Adam worked, and life spun on in its usual rhythm. Vera and David grew older—slowly, gracefully, still in love with each other. Mikey grew up, finished college, married a woman named Dana, and moved to another city. Everything changed, but one thing remained constant—their family. The bond between people who were once strangers and now couldn’t imagine life without one another.
When Sophie was seven, almost eight, Molly took her to that same pond. In the winter, in December, when the ice was white and deceptively solid.
“Mommy, what’s this place?” Sophie asked, holding her hand.
“It’s a special place,” Molly replied. “This is where it all began.”
“What began?”
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