Reborn From Oblivion by Christia Muray

Chapter 559

When Nellie was old enough, she had no choice but to start working to earn money, while all her hard- earned savings were taken from her. Back then, she never imagined she'd find herself in the same boat one day.

Now, just to survive, she was forced to swallow her pride and beg from anyone who might spare a glance. Most folks, though, turned a cold shoulder, finding her unkempt and keeping their distance offering a warm meal was the last thing on their minds. More often than not, she had to rummage through trash bins for scraps to fill her belly.

It was then that Miranda finally realized just how tough Nellie's childhood had been. She had been so hard on her. Maybe it was empathy kicking in, but Miranda started to see Nellie in a new light,

complaining less and less. She began to appreciate Nellie's admirable qualities: her resilience and her deep sense of family duty.

Without her resilience, how could she have made it through those humiliating times and still grown up healthy? And if it weren't for her sense of duty, why would she hand over all the money she painstakingly begged for?

As winter settled in, the first snowflakes danced down from the sky. This winter felt colder than any before it. When Nathalie woke up to the sight of that first snow, her recent blues melted away. She flung her arms around Nathan's neck, bubbling with excitement, "Nathan, let's go see the snow!"

chuckled, indulging her

winter gear: a puffy down jacket, a scarf, gloves, and a hat, turning her into a cozy bundle. Holding his hand, Nathalie dashed outside, her joy

in white. Nathalie tilted her head back, snowflakes gently gathering in her hair until it was a snowy crown. Nathan stood nearby, like a quiet guardian, his eyes soft

molded a snowman-no, a tiny snow couple. She looked up at Nathan with a proud

a tender gaze, he said, "As we stand here in the first snow, let's promise to spend our lives

he yearned for nothing more than a shared future. Nathalie clasped

lit

moment, like

Nathalie turned to see wheel tracks carving through the snow, leading to Miranda in her wheelchair. She wore thin clothes against the biting cold, her cheeks and

self. Even at her lowest, she'd always held onto a shred of pride when

loss. After all, Miranda's past