My mother didn’t say a word. She just leaned against the doorframe, wiped a tear from her eye, and nodded. She knew the message had been delivered.
As the house began to wake up, I realized the “rotting” inside me had stopped. The hole in my heart wasn’t gone—it would never be gone—but it wasn’t an empty abyss anymore. It was a space that April was meant to fill.
I stood up, my legs stiff but my spirit lighter than it had been in years. I walked over to the photo of Marina in the yellow dress. I didn’t flinch this time. I looked her straight in the eyes.
“I hear you,” I whispered to the photo. “I’ll answer for both of us.”
