Chapter 16
Six months later, the babies had moved from bassinets to cribs.
Three.
Side by side.
Not identical anymore.
One chewed the rail.
One hated socks.
The boy Bianca once planned to name Gabriel turned out to scream whenever anyone sang.
Sofia named him Matteo.
His sisters were Emma and Rose.
Names chosen by their parents after everything.
Not by branches.
Not by grandparents.
Julian had returned to the main bedroom two weeks earlier.
Sofia’s decision.
Not mine.
Their marriage was not fixed.
It was being rebuilt.
Slowly.
Some nights she still asked him to sleep elsewhere.
He did.
No punishment.
No accusation.
Bianca visited once a month.
The first time Sofia allowed her to hold Matteo, Bianca asked twice.
Then cried after Sofia said yes.
She did not call him Gabriel.
Good.
She held him for five minutes.
Then handed him back before being asked.
Better.
Victor visited less.
He had finally learned quantity of access did not prove quality of relationship.
One afternoon, Matteo started crying in Bianca’s arms.
Old Bianca might have interpreted that as rejection.
This version simply said:
“Mom wants you.”
Then handed him to Sofia.
That tiny sentence mattered.
Mom.
Not me.
Not ours.
Not the family.
Sofia.
The babies’ mother.
I watched from the doorway.
My daughter noticed.
“Stop staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Fair.
I looked toward the blue ribbon still tied around the drawer handle.
Faded now.
Sofia followed my eyes.
“You want to know if I still need it.”
“Yes.”
She thought.
Then untied it.
I held my breath.
She walked to the trash.
Dropped it.
That was all.
No ceremony.
May you like
No speech.
Some symbols finish their work quietly.
