From a Wrong Turn to Mr. Right novel Chapter 372

Beatty suddenly spoke.

Olivia Bennett nodded, “I’m here.”

Beatty looked at her, a wave of bitterness welling up inside her. Tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them.

Seeing her like this, Olivia grew even more anxious.

But before Olivia could say anything, Beatty’s rough, broken voice sounded.

“Olivia, my baby girl…”

The tears came pouring down Beatty’s cheeks.

Olivia froze, staring at Beatty, barely even breathing.

For a long moment, no one moved. Finally, Olivia turned, her fingers twitching with uncertainty as she glanced over at Damian Franklin.

Damian watched Beatty, an impossible hope flickering in his chest. He clenched his hand into a fist, swallowed, and asked softly, “Beatty, do you… remember everything?”

Beatty looked at Damian. She tried to speak, but her throat was so tight with emotion that nothing came out. She only nodded, her eyes shining with clarity, so different from her usual innocent, clear-eyed look.

Damian saw it and managed a shaky smile—a smile that looked like it could turn into tears at any second. His eyes grew moist; he turned away quickly, wiping at the corner of his eye, hoping no one noticed.

But Beatty saw. She moved slightly, then slowly reached her right hand toward him.

Damian grabbed her hand at once.

Beatty smiled weakly, then looked at Olivia.

Olivia stared at her, lips trembling, and finally whispered, “Mom.”

Just that one word made Beatty’s heart twist with emotion.

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Olivia, her gaze full of aching love and longing.

Their eyes met and Olivia’s vision blurred. A single, fat tear rolled down her cheek with a soft plop.

Mother and daughter sat there, wordless, tears flowing freely.

Beatty patted the spot on the bed next to her, looking at Olivia with so much love it almost hurt. “Come sit here, Olivia.”

Olivia sat down where her mother pointed.

Beatty squeezed her hand tight, lifting her face to study Olivia, as if she wanted to memorize every line. “Let me really see you, sweetheart.”

Her gaze was soft and full of pride.

Olivia sat still, tilting her face for her mom to see.

Beatty’s mind flashed back to the little girl who used to twirl around in fairy dresses and beg for another bedtime story—a girl who now was a grown woman, a mother herself.

Tears pricked Beatty’s eyes again.

She knew if she started crying, Olivia would too.

So Beatty blinked hard, forcing the tears away, and reached up to gently cup Olivia’s cheek, her hand trembling with care.