She hugged me.
“Thank you for everything, Dad.”
I held her close.
“No, sweetheart. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me a reason to keep going on the days when I didn’t know how.”
She cried then, and so did I.
We stood together on the terrace until Michael came looking for his bride.
When Chloe returned to the reception, I stayed outside for another minute.
I looked through the window at my five other daughters, laughing together on the dance floor.
Six women.
Six lives.
Six reasons I had never given up.
For the first time in fifteen years, I felt that the past was finally where it belonged.
Behind us.
Three weeks later, Elena sent Chloe a long email.
She did not ask for forgiveness.
She admitted that she had allowed Julian’s warnings to become excuses. She acknowledged that she had never made the effort to contact us directly after leaving, even when she had opportunities to do so.
