The room responded warmly, not because the women onstage were anyone’s daughters, but because they had something worth sharing.

I looked across the aisle.

Marianne was listening with her hands folded in her lap, smiling the same wide smile I’d seen in old photographs.

I felt pride and regret together, emotions that had stopped fighting for dominance and settled into something I could carry.

Afterward Sophie came down the aisle and hugged her mother.

Chloe followed.

Then Sophie turned toward me, hesitated, and opened one arm.

I stepped into a brief, awkward embrace.