Around the puppy’s neck, carefully laminated and preserved, was the paper necklace she’d made two years ago.

Victor stepped out onto the terrace and handed me a steaming cup of coffee. He leaned against the glass railing, watching his niece tackle the dog into the grass.

“You look different, Viv.”

“Older?” I smiled, taking a sip.

“Lighter,” he corrected. He paused, looking out at the skyline. “Do you ever regret it? Hiding who you were from him for so long? If you’d told him from the start, maybe none of this would have happened.”

I watched Sophia roll in the grass, completely safe, completely loved.