“I wasn’t going to—”
“I’m not finished. They don’t want expensive gifts, a new house, or public declarations about how proud you are. They want to know why you left and whether you’re going to disappear again when things become uncomfortable.”
I gripped the phone.
“Tell them I will answer every question they have.”
“I’ll tell them you said that.”
Our first meeting took place the following Saturday in a quiet café near the university.
Marianne arrived with both girls.
Chloe wore jeans and a gray sweater.
Sophie wore a simple green dress and carried a notebook.
Neither girl hugged me.
Neither smiled.
I was grateful they had come at all.
We sat around a small table.
For a few minutes, no one spoke.
Then Chloe opened her notebook.
“We have questions,” she said.
“Ask me anything.”
“Did you love Mom?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Yes,” I said. “I did.”
