‘Yes.’

‘She wants to start with a letter.

Not a call yet.’

‘That’s okay,’ I said quickly.

‘Anything she wants.’

I spent three evenings writing back.

Every sentence felt too heavy or too little.

In the end I wrote simply that I was glad she was safe, that she could take all the time she needed, and that I hoped to learn who she was now instead of expecting her to be the girl I remembered.