At seventy-three, Margaret Hayes had already accepted that her best years were behind her. Her husband, Walter, had passed away six winters earlier, and since then, time had slowed into a quiet ache.
Each morning, she brewed a single cup of tea and sat by the kitchen window, staring at the frost that crept across the glass.
Her two grown sons called once a week out of duty, their voices rushed, distant. Friends she used to play bridge with had moved away or passed on.
The garden, once her pride, had turned wild with ivy. And sometimes, late at night, she would whisper to herself, Maybe this is all that’s left — waiting quietly for the end.
But life, she was about to learn, had one more miracle left for her.
The News That Changed Everything
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