“I’m sorry about the lawsuit.”
Those words couldn’t erase anything.
They couldn’t.
But they were a beginning.
“And I’m sorry I kept you at a distance,” I said. “I shouldn’t have told you everything on the first day. But I should have told you more.”
She nodded.
Emilia made a little sound and smiled in her sleep.
Silvia looked at her.
“Maybe one day she’ll call me Auntie.”
“Maybe.”
Mikhail came much later.
Not with a gift.
Not with an apology.
He came with questions.
“What’s going to happen to the house?”
That was the first thing he said.
Todor was there.
He looked at him calmly.
“Hello, Mikhail.”
Mikhail didn’t answer.
He looked at me.
“Mom, we need to talk practically.”
“Okay. Let’s talk practically.”
“If something happens to you, will the house be left to this child?”
The word “this” hurt me.
But I didn’t raise my voice.
“Part of my property will be distributed among all my children.”
“All?”
“Yes. Silvia, you, and Emilia.”
He gave a bitter smile.
“So that’s it. You really chose her over us.”
“I didn’t choose anyone over anyone.”
“You did.”
Todor stood.
“Mikhail, your mother doesn’t owe you an inheritance.”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
“Then don’t talk about her daughter as if she were property.”
Mikhail turned toward him.
“You appear out of nowhere after fifty years and decide you’re going to teach us about family?”
Todor didn’t flinch.
“No. I know what it’s like to be late to a family. That’s why I don’t want to see you lose yours in the same way.”
Mikhail left.
At the time, I thought he might never return.
But sometimes people need to reach the bottom of their own pride before they can see what they’ve lost.
A year later, on Emilia’s first birthday, he came.
