“I stopped drawing because Bianca said they looked childish,” she explained.
I turned the pages carefully.
There were sketches of houses, trees, dresses, and faces. Some were unfinished. Others were remarkably detailed.
“These are beautiful,” I said.
She shrugged.
“They’re just drawings.”
“No. They’re yours.”
She looked at me for a long time.
“Do you think I’ll ever feel normal again?”
I put the notebook down.
“I think healing takes time. I won’t pretend that everything will disappear because we left the house. But you won’t have to face it alone.”
She nodded.
Then she asked the question I had been expecting.
“Do you still love Patricia?”
I looked out the window.
“I loved the person I believed she was. I don’t know what I feel about the person I’ve discovered.”
“Does that mean you hate her?”
“No.”
Sofia seemed confused.
I continued.
“Hate would mean I spend every day thinking about hurting her back. That’s not what I want. I want you to be safe. I want the truth to come out. I want the law to deal with what happened. And I want us to build a life where you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in your own home.”
