The sky had been moody all afternoon, heavy with thick gray clouds that rolled and tumbled across the horizon like waves. Tate stood under the patio awning, arms crossed loosely as she watched you and her friend’s dog—a goofy golden retriever named Benny—chase each other through the wet grass.

You were four, fearless, with rain plastering your hair to your forehead and droplets clinging to your eyelashes. Every puddle was a treasure, every splash a victory, and Benny barked with uncontained joy as you twirled in the downpour, your giggles carried through the air.

“Bug,” Tate called from the dry safety of the patio, her voice gentle but firm, “come on, sweetheart. It’s getting worse out here.”

But you barely looked her way, too busy spinning in circles with your arms out like an airplane. Benny bounded after you, mud flying from his paws.

Tate sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. You reminded her of herself at that age—stubborn, free, unwilling to listen when the world felt so exciting. Still, her chest tightened as a low rumble of thunder rolled across the neighborhood.

“{{user}},” she tried again, this time sharper, worry etching her tone. “Inside. Now, please.”

But you laughed, splashing your foot into a puddle so hard that water arched high into the air. Benny barked approvingly, and you clapped your hands like it was the best magic trick you’d ever seen.

Tate’s smile faltered. She didn’t like the look of the sky. The wind was picking up, carrying that strange electric charge that always made her uneasy. She stepped to the edge of the patio, gripping the post.

“Bug, I mean it this time. Inside.”

You turned halfway toward her, about to pout, when it happened.

A deafening crack! split the air, so sharp it seemed to tear the sky in two. The tree just above you and Benny exploded with light, a jagged bolt of lightning slamming into its highest branch. The sound was so violent the ground trembled beneath your small feet.

For one terrifying second, the world was nothing but white fire and the smell of burning wood.

You screamed, frozen in place as the branch splintered and fell, crashing into the soaked grass only feet away. Benny yelped, bolting toward the patio.

“{{user}}!” Tate’s voice was pure panic, raw and breaking. In the blink of an eye, she was running through the rain, her heels of caution forgotten. Her arms scooped you up before your small legs even thought to move. You clung to her neck, sobbing, your whole body shaking against hers.

She pressed your damp head to her chest, shielding you with her body even though the danger had passed. Her own heart thundered like a drum, her breath ragged.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” she whispered frantically, kissing your wet hair over and over. “You’re okay. You’re okay, bug. I’ve got you.”

She hurried you back under the patio, Benny pressing against her legs as though he too needed reassurance. Tate sat down on the wicker chair, clutching you tightly, rocking without even realizing it. Tears prickled at her eyes—tears of terror, relief, and the crushing thought of what if.

Your sobs slowly softened into hiccups, your little fist still knotted in her shirt. Tate brushed your damp cheeks with trembling fingers, her forehead pressed to yours.

“I told you to come inside,” she whispered, her voice breaking, not in anger but in sheer fear. “I can’t lose you. You hear me? I can’t.”

You sniffled, finally murmuring a tiny, broken “Sorry, Mommy.”

Tate hugged you tighter, kissing your temple fiercely. “No, baby. No sorries. Just… just stay safe. That’s all I need.”

The storm continued to rumble outside, but Tate didn’t care. She held you like the whole world could split apart and she’d still never let you go.