I gave a small nod.

Chloe opened the book.

She read the entry about her school play.

She kept her voice steady through the sentence about hoping the knowledge that she was loved would one day be enough.

I could no longer look directly at her.

Then she read the entry from year six, when Maya accidentally called her teacher Mom and cried in the car.

The passage ended with me waiting until she slept before I cried.