Then I cried.
Not because I had won a victory over my husband’s family, but because I had finally stopped carrying the fear that they could define me simply by repeating their accusations.
That evening, I picked Sophie up from school and took her to a small park near our home.
We sat on a bench while she told me about a classmate who had learned to ride a bicycle without training wheels.
“Did you have a good day, Mommy?” she asked.
I smiled.
“Yes, sweetheart. I had a very good day.”
“Why?”
I thought about telling her that a judge had ruled in my favor, that the legal battle was finally moving toward a resolution, and that I could breathe a little more easily.
Instead, I asked her what she thought made someone strong.
She considered the question.
“Being brave when you’re scared?”
I kissed her forehead.
“That’s a very good answer.”
