When they finally told us we could go home, relief should’ve washed over me. Instead, my chest felt hollow. My daughter, Callie, grinned beneath her mask, clutching her beloved bunny as she waved enthusiastically at every passing nurse—but I couldn’t shake the dread in my gut.

We had nowhere to return to.

While I stayed at the hospital around the clock, our rent had lapsed months ago. Her father was long gone, and after two weeks of silence, I knew my job had quietly let me go. I plastered a smile on my face, brushed Callie’s hair back gently, and even let her choose a balloon from the gift shop—though we could barely afford it.

Continues…