“Alexander?”

I ignored her completely.

I walked straight past her, as though she were not there, and dropped to both knees on the rug in front of my daughters.

And Valeria, my nine-year-old, instinctively took a small, fearful half-step backward.

That tiny movement broke my heart into a thousand pieces, because it meant that my own daughter, in that moment, did not know whether her father’s sudden appearance meant safety or more danger.

She was afraid of how I would react.