The mother who would no longer keep peace by letting her child be wounded quietly.
You picked up the basket and smoothed one ribbon.
Then you whispered into the quiet room, “You never did it wrong.”
Camila slept on.
Outside, the house was peaceful.
No wedding music.
No lies waiting in formal clothes.
No adults deciding your daughter’s heart was small enough to sacrifice.
Just the soft breathing of a child who had learned, slowly and surely, that when people broke promises to her, her parents would not ask her to smile for the picture.
They would take her hand.
They would leave the room.
