“She called me resilient like I was a stray dog that survived winter.”
He laughed softly and kissed my forehead.
“Give her time.”
I did.
I gave her holidays where she seated me beside guests who confused me with staff.
I gave her brunches where she corrected my pronunciation of wine names in front of strangers.
I gave her three years of patience while she smiled at me across flower arrangements and dismantled me one sentence at a time.
One evening, after a fundraising dinner, she leaned across the table
and said, “Girls like you are useful for a season, Sophia.
Not for a legacy.”
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