“Yes.

I won’t pretend it was all to protect you.

I was a coward, too.”

That answer made me cry.

I didn’t hug her right away.

I asked about my childhood, about her letters, about what she had been doing while I celebrated birthdays in front of a photograph of a woman I believed was dead.

She answered without asking for forgiveness in exchange for a hug.

We started seeing each other once a month.