What we had was our home, our boundaries, and adults who spoke to one another instead of through her.

Inside, Lily dropped her backpack by the table and went to see whether the last of the biscuits were still in the tin.

I put the leftovers in the refrigerator.

Then she called from the kitchen.

“Mom, can I have two?”

“One before dinner.”

She sighed with great disappointment.

I smiled and went to fill the kettle.

Derek had tried to take control of my home because I trusted the wrong person.

He failed because, when it mattered, I trusted my daughter long enough to listen.