Maria did neither.

She did the difficult middle thing, which requires more strength than either extreme: she kept the door closed, but not locked.

She told Andrew, in effect, that the past could not be waved away, that love was not the same as trust and that trust would have to be rebuilt from nothing, brick by brick, through actions over time — and that she was willing to let him try, but only to try, and only on terms that protected her son.

It was neither the cruelty of permanent exile nor the foolishness of instant forgiveness.