After battling cancer for years, I was finally healthy enough to reunite with my daughter, Hazel. Her father, Nathan, had taken custody while I was sick, promising it was temporary. But as I weakened, so did our connection—letters stopped, visits faded, and eventually, he filed for full custody and remarried. When I showed up on my scheduled day to pick Hazel up, Nathan’s new wife, Sara, told me they went to the fair—without telling me. “She doesn’t want to go with you anymore,” she said. “She calls me Mom now.”

Desperate, I rushed to the fair. And there she was—my Hazel. I ran to her, arms open. But she looked at me, my wig gone in the breeze, and whispered words that shattered me: “You’re not my mom. You’re just a bald lady.” I was devastated. But a few days later, at her school’s art contest, I saw Hazel’s painting: Following the Stars, a story I used to tell her about finding her way home. That night, I surprised her with a video montage of our memories and the letters I’d sent—letters Sara had hidden. Hazel saw the truth. Through tears, she asked: “Can I go home with Mommy?” Nathan, finally realizing what she needed, said yes. I held my daughter tight, knowing love had led her back. A mother’s love never fades. And Hazel finally followed the stars—home.