Hope became the best big sister.
She helped with diaper changes (mostly by bringing the wrong supplies). She sang to Noah when he cried (off-key but sweet). She protected him fiercely, even from well-meaning relatives who got too close.
"He's MY brother," she'd declare, standing in front of him.
"That's right," Lina agreed. "Your brother. And you're his big sister forever."
"Forever," Hope repeated, liking the sound.
Noah adored Hope.
He'd watch her with wide eyes, tracking her movements across the room. When she talked, he listened. When she played, he wanted to join—even when he was too little.
"They're going to be close," Kai observed. "I can tell."
"Like us?" Lina asked. "You and Soo-jin?"
"Different. Better. They have parents who are present." He paused. "We're breaking cycles, Lina. Giving them what we didn't have."
She leaned into him. "That's the best thing we can do."
As they grew, their personalities emerged.
Hope was imaginative—always creating stories, acting them out with toys, demanding audiences for her performances. Lina saw herself in that creativity.
Noah was musical—humming before he could talk, banging on any surface like a drum, gravitating toward Kai's piano. Kai saw himself in that connection.
"They're us," Lina marveled. "Little versions of us."
"Better versions," Kai corrected. "They get the best of both of us."