Chapter 22
Mila asked to meet Sabrina when she was thirteen.
Sienna expected the question eventually.
Nico did not.
His answer came immediately.
“No.”
Mila looked at him.
Sienna looked at him.
Nico closed his eyes.
“Apparently I need to stop doing that.”
“Yes,” both said.
Unfortunate.
Mila had received occasional letters from Sabrina over the years.
Never more than one a year.
No gifts.
No requests.
No pressure.
Sabrina had built a small business after losing the boutique tied to the fraudulent payments.
No Ferrante money.
No family access.
She and Marjorie rarely appeared together publicly.
That did not prove anything.
It simply meant life had continued.
The therapist asked Mila why she wanted the meeting.
“I want to ask her something not in letters.”
“What?”
Mila shook her head.
Private.
Good.
The meeting happened in a neutral office.
Sienna nearby.
Nico not inside.
He disliked that.
Still went.
Sabrina looked older.
Mila’s first thought was disappointing.
She had expected someone scarier.
“You're Aunt Sabrina.”
“Yes.”
“You look normal.”
Sabrina almost laughed.
“I am normal.”
Mila frowned.
“Normal people cut kid hair?”
Sabrina’s face changed.
“No.”
Good.
They sat.
Mila asked:
“Did you like me before?”
Sabrina looked surprised.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You brought dolls.”
“I did.”
“You read book.”
“Yes.”
“Then why could you cut?”
There it was.
Not why did you hate me.
Because Sabrina had not hated her.
That made the act harder.
Sabrina took time.
“Because I cared more about protecting my brother and mother in that moment than about what I was doing to you.”
Mila waited.
“I also wanted you to be afraid to talk again.”
“Even if you liked me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s worse.”
Sabrina closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Mila looked at her own hair.
Long now.
Past her shoulders.
No braid.
“Did Grandma tell you to cut?”
“She told me we had to frighten you.”
“Did she say hair?”
“No.”
That mattered.
The choice belonged to Sabrina.
No transfer.
No escape.
Mila nodded slowly.
Then:
“Do you want hug?”
Sabrina looked startled.
“Yes.”
Honest.
Mila continued.
“I don’t.”
Sabrina’s face tightened.
Then relaxed.
“Okay.”
Good.
At thirty-six minutes Mila ended the meeting.
Outside Nico stood.
Trying not to look like a guard.
Failing.
“How was—”
He stopped.
Mila smiled.
“Learning.”
“Apparently.”
A month later she asked for no second meeting.
Then at fifteen, she asked again.
The relationship remained limited.
A lunch.
A letter.
Months of silence.
Sabrina never became aunt in the old sense again.
Mila sometimes called her Aunt Sabrina anyway.
May you like
A word did not restore authority.
That mattered.
