I went to the store for eggs and quiet, but a stranger told me they’d found my daughter. That would’ve been heartwarming if I had one. Moments earlier, I’d seen a woman angrily scratch a car with her keys. I looked away, like I always do.

Inside the store, a worker caught my eye and called out, “We found your daughter!” Confused, I followed her to a back room where a little girl with messy pigtails waited. She called me “Mommy,” but I’m actually her aunt. Still, her warm hug caught me off guard.

The girl, Dora, said she ran away because she felt lonely and wanted to find me. Her mother, my sister Lily, was often busy with dates and grown-up things. I realized Dora needed more care and that I couldn’t keep hiding in the background anymore.

Later, I confronted my sister, urging her to pay attention to Dora. For the first time, I felt seen not invisible. As I tucked Dora in that night, she whispered, “You’d make a good mommy.” Maybe I’m not a mother, but I’m someone worth noticing.