Chapter 19
Delia’s first letter arrived when Lily was seven.
Not to Raffaele.
To Lily.
Through Claire.
That distinction mattered.
Delia had not seen her niece since the gala.
Years.
She had complied with the settlement boundary.
No surprise visits.
No messages through cousins.
No gifts hidden inside family events.
The letter asked for nothing except permission to exist on paper.
Raffaele said no.
Immediately.
Sofia looked at him.
He closed his eyes.
“Right.”
Progress remained humiliating.
They brought the question to Lily’s therapist.
Lily knew broad facts by then.
Aunt Delia had hurt Mommy.
Aunt Delia had treated workers unfairly.
She had helped take money through event staffing.
She was not allowed to manage the house anymore.
Simple.
True.
The therapist asked:
“Do you want to know what she wrote?”
Lily thought.
“Is it long?”
Apparently length mattered.
“Two pages.”
“No.”
Good.
Three months later:
“Now?”
The letter remained sealed.
Lily opened it herself.
Delia wrote:
I am sorry I hit your mother.
I am sorry you saw it.
She did not write:
I lost my temper.
Good.
She wrote:
I had spent years believing your father’s home was also mine to run because I had taken care of him when we were young.
That belief became something I used against your mother.
Lily stopped.
“Daddy was baby?”
“Thirteen,” Raffaele said.
“That’s not baby.”
“No.”
Delia described their mother dying.
Cooking.
School forms.
Funerals.
Family dinners.
Not to excuse herself.
To explain how a role became identity.
Then:
When your mother became Raffaele’s wife, I behaved as though her place took something that belonged to me.
It did not.
Lily looked up.
“Mommy took house?”
“No,” Sofia said.
“Aunt Delia thought.”
“Yes.”
“That’s weird.”
Yes.
The letter continued.
Delia apologized for telling staff Sofia had volunteered.
For using Sofia’s old kitchen work as a reason to humiliate her.
Then:
You do not have to see me.
Lily folded the letter.
“Does she love me?”
Raffaele became still.
Sofia answered first.
“I think she does.”
“Then why no see?”
Because love was not enough.
Again.
Sofia explained.
“When adults hurt people, sometimes being sorry does not mean they immediately get the same relationship back.”
Lily frowned.
“Forever?”
“We don’t know.”
“Who knows?”
Sofia looked at her daughter.
“You’ll get more say as you get older.”
Raffaele felt something difficult.
Delia was his sister.
Lily was his child.
For years, those two facts would have made him believe he should decide.
Now:
“Your mom and I keep you safe while you’re little.”
Another pause.
“When you’re older, your relationship with Aunt Delia belongs more to you.”
Lily thought.
“Do I answer?”
“Only if you want.”
She wrote:
I READ IT.
Nothing else.
Delia received the message.
May you like
No second letter arrived.
That restraint mattered more to Raffaele than he wanted to admit.
