I thought she was just offended by my words and was reacting emotionally, but the truth turned out to be much more difficult. Now I can't forgive myself for what I said to her that day, and every time I remember what I saw, the tears flow by themselves.

Then the nurse handed me a small box.

Your mother asked me to give it to you.

Inside were tiny knitted items—socks, hats, cardigans. Each item had been made with patience, care, and love. There was also a folded piece of paper with my daughter's name written on it—in Mom's familiar, neat handwriting.

I pressed the soft wool to my face.

And then I finally understood.

Those "rough" hands had been creating all along. They loved us in their own way - quietly, without asking for anything in return, as long as they had the strength to do so.

This story is inspired by real-life situations, but is artistically recreated. Names, images, and some details have been changed to protect privacy and improve literary construction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental and unintentional.