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MIA'S POV:

"Mom?"

My voice didn't sound like my own. It was weak and shaky. Just like my legs which struggled to hold my weight. Logans arms steadied me as I wobbled, blinking over and over again to try and remove the tears that were blurring my vision.

I had to be seeing things. I had to be. There was no way I was facing my mother right now. Although, even through my blurry eyes, I recognised the figure in front of me. She wasn't particularly tall and looked a lot older now than I remembered. Her hair was dripping wet and her face was drenched in her own tears as she stared back at me.

"Mia," she whispered softly.

My throat ran dry and I took a miniscule step closer, moving hesitantly in case she disappeared before I reached her. I had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real. And yet, I wanted it to be, I wanted it so desperately. I turned to look at my sister who had wrapped her arms around herself, shaking as she stared at the figure in front of us.

"Ashely," our mother smiled, her eyes flitting between the two of us. "Look how grown up you both are," she cried, a smile still on her lips despite the pain radiating in her eyes and the sorrow in her tone.

I took another step towards her, my own lips daring to twitch into a smile. "How?" I whispered. Her eyes lowered for a moment and I turned to Logan, raising an eyebrow at him. All he did was reach for me, squeezing my hand before I turned back to her. "You're really here?" I whispered.

She glanced up again and made a small step towards me. "I'm really here sweetheart," she stated in the voice that was so familiar to me. It was the voice that sang me lullaby's and read me stories. It was the voice of my mother and the realisation slammed into me. It was her. She was really here.

I closed the distance between us, collapsing against her and allowing myself to cry heavily. She broke as well, her soft cries mixing with mine as we clung to each other. She was warm, like she always used to be, and her arms around me made me feel like a child again. Like a weak, helpless child that totally relied on their mother to survive.

"I can't believe it's you," I sniffled, burying my face in her damp hair and allowing her scent to engulf me. It wasn't her usual shampoo that she'd used to wash her hair, nor was she wearing the perfume she always wore and yet, she smelled like her, her own distinct, motherly scent that I hadn't realised quite how much I had missed.

"I never thought I would get to see you girls again," she said with a sob, outstretching one of her arms so Ashley could step against her and be engulfed in the hug. "You're both so beautiful." Her glance fell to my stomach and her smile widened. "And you're pregnant," her voice shook, "that's amazing. I can't wait to meet your husband."

"Um... actually," I muttered, glancing to where Logan stood, his eyes fixed on my stomach. She followed my gaze and her eyes widened.

"Oh."

I bit my lip. "We're not married," I admitted guiltily.

"Yet," Logan muttered behind me and my stomach fluttered. I turned to see his dark eyes on me and a shiver ran down my spine. I made a mental note to discuss that comment with him later but right now, all I could do was sink back into my mom's arms.

We stayed like that for a long time, clutching each other out of fear that we would be ripped apart yet again. Eventually, my head was flooded with questions and I couldn't hold back any longer. "How are you here?" I muttered, pulling away to see her eyes filled with emotion. "We thought you were dead... we thought," I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the words out, "we thought he killed you."

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