As her body grew heavier, Nora found comfort in something small and familiar—needle and thread.
In her past life, she'd learned embroidery at the orphanage. It had been a chore then. Now, it became her anchor.
She began stitching beneath the osmanthus tree each afternoon. At first, just for herself. But soon, her designs grew more intricate—vivid birds, mountain blossoms, flowing rivers.
Aunt Maria was the first to notice.
"These are beautiful," she said, holding up a square of silk stitched with a plum blossom. "You should sell them."
"I do," Nora replied quietly. "Online. A little."
Money was tight. Her savings were dwindling, and she still needed supplies for the baby.
One night, she stumbled across a livestream of a popular embroidery artist. Tens of thousands watched her hands stitch flowers in real time.
The next day, Nora tried it.
Her first stream had five viewers. Her camera was crooked. Her hands trembled. But she kept stitching and answered every comment with patience.
One viewer became ten. Then thirty.
Hope returned—small, steady, and stitched into silk.