And don’t you ever, ever let a bitter, miserable woman tell you otherwise.”

“I don’t care what she said anymore, Dad,” Maya whispered back, and a tiny, genuine smile broke through the tears on her face.

Then she looked down at her little brother, who was still holding his camera, and asked, with wonder in her voice, “Liam.

Did you really catch all of that?” And my son, ten years old, shrugged, and a small proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you I was getting good at photography,” he said.