The night our parents died, our world collapsed. We lost not just Mom and Dad, but the laughter in our kitchen and the warmth of our home. Left as orphans in an institution, our brother Liam, just nine, became our protector—giving up meals, anchoring us, and promising, “One day, we’re going to get that café back.”
Through foster homes, separated but never broken, Liam worked night shifts, Emma waited tables, and I helped wherever I could. Our mission—reclaim our parents’ café—became our driving force. Each paycheck fed our dream, each sacrifice honed our resolve.
Eight years later, we stood side by side, signing the papers to restore the café. Dusty walls, peeling paint, but it was ours again. We poured ourselves into its revival, serving coffee and warmth, honoring memories, and welcoming a new generation of patrons with a legacy of love and resilience.
Years on, we even bought back our childhood home. Every Sunday, we gather there—three siblings, our families—filling the once-empty rooms with laughter and life. With Liam’s toast, “Only in unity can a family overcome anything,” we finally understood what our parents believed—and lived it fully.