Chapter 8 - REBECCA’S DAUGHTER
Rebecca had a baby three years after the fire.
A girl.
Sophie.
She sent me one photograph.
No guilt.
No “Lily deserves a cousin.”
Just:
I wanted you to know Sophie was born healthy. I understand if you don’t respond.
I responded:
Congratulations. I’m glad you’re both safe.
That was all.
Six months later, Rebecca wrote again.
This time:
I understand something now that terrifies me.
I read on.
When I hold Sophie, I think about standing between you and the gate while you held Lily.
My chest tightened.
I keep imagining someone doing that to me.
Then:
I’m sorry is not big enough, but it is still true.
I did not answer immediately.
Two months later, I agreed to meet her.
Public park.
No children.
Rebecca looked older.
Softer.
“I’m in therapy.”
“Good.”
“Mom hates that.”
“Also good.”
She laughed.
Then cried.
“I spent my whole life believing if Mom chose me, it meant I won.”
I understood.
The favorite child had her own prison.
“If she was angry with you, she was closer to me.”
Rebecca stared at her hands.
“I helped her hurt you because her approval felt like safety.”
There it was.
Not excuse.
Explanation.
“What happens now?”
I asked.
“I stop.”
Simple.
Hard.
Over the next two years, she proved it.
No messages from Helen passed through her.
No pressure.
No surprise visits.
No using Sophie to force access.
Eventually Lily met Sophie.
Not because cousins must.
Because I decided Rebecca had become safe enough for one afternoon.
Then another.
May you like
Repair moved at the speed of evidence.
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