The train ride to the countryside was smoother than expected. Aurora slept most of the way, her tiny body nestled in Elara’s arms, lulled by the steady rhythm of the tracks.


Michael watched them with a softness in his eyes Elara had grown to love—one that always seemed to say I still can’t believe this is my life.


“She’s going to love you,” he said as the landscape turned to lavender fields and old stone houses.


“Your mother?” Elara asked, trying to mask the quiet nerves tightening in her stomach.


Michael nodded. “And my father. But my mother especially. She’s intense, but in the best way.”


Elara offered a thin smile, fingers brushing Aurora’s cheek. “I’ve never had a mother-in-law before.”


Michael leaned over and kissed her temple. “Just be yourself. That’s all you’ve ever had to be.”



---


They arrived at a charming villa with climbing vines and a white fence lined with roses. The front door opened before they reached it, and a woman with warm brown eyes and curls streaked with gray rushed forward.


“Elara,” she said, her French accent thick with joy. “And this must be Aurora!”


Madame Leclair—Brigitte—took Aurora in her arms like she had been waiting her whole life to meet her. Her voice dropped to a coo as she whispered to the baby in French, telling her how loved she already was.


Elara stood back for a moment, unsure where to place herself in this picture-perfect scene. The maternal ease with which Brigitte held Aurora stirred something old and unfamiliar in her—an ache for something she had barely known.



---


Over lunch in the sunlit garden, Michael’s father joined them—a tall, quiet man named Alain with a dry wit and soft eyes. He offered Elara a glass of wine and asked thoughtful questions about her music.


But it was Brigitte who hovered most. Not out of control—but care.


“You’re still healing,” she reminded Elara when she noticed her shifting uncomfortably. “You must give yourself time. There is no medal for being the fastest mother.”


Elara smiled. “I’m still learning to slow down.”


Brigitte reached over and gently touched her hand. “You are doing beautifully. You and the baby both.”



---


Later that night, as Elara sat in the guest room rocking Aurora, Brigitte knocked softly and entered.


“I didn’t want to sleep without saying something,” she said. “I know it’s not easy—being in a new family.”


Elara didn’t know what to say. So she listened.


“I never had a daughter,” Brigitte said. “When Michael told me about you, I was nervous. But from the moment I met you… I saw how much you love my son. And now I see how much you love your daughter. That is more than enough.”


Tears welled up before Elara could stop them. “Thank you.”


Brigitte smiled, and this time her voice was quieter. “I know you’ve had a complicated history with mothers. But if you ever need another one, I’m here.”


Elara’s throat tightened. “I might take you up on that.”



---


That night, she wrote again.


"Dear Aurora—

Today you met your other grandmother.

And for the first time,

I didn’t feel like a motherless daughter.

I felt like a daughter again.

And it was beautiful."