The relevant evidence was being handled through proper channels. I had legal advice, a safer place to live, and people I could contact when I needed support.
Lina began sleeping more peacefully.
At first, she still asked whether her father would be angry if she laughed too loudly. She sometimes apologized for spilling water or dropping a toy.
I never told her that everything was fine when it wasn’t.
Instead, I told her the truth in words she could understand.
“You are allowed to make mistakes,” I said. “You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to say when something hurts. And none of those things makes you a bad person.”
One afternoon, she brought me another drawing.
This time, she had drawn a house with a garden, two windows, and a wide front door.
There were two figures standing outside.
One was tall.
The other was small.
Above them, she had drawn a yellow sun.
