I consider my answer carefully. "It did at first," I admit. "But it's getting better every day. The physical pain is manageable. It's the emotional healing that takes longer."
Sofia reaches out, gently placing her hand on mine. "We're here for you," she says softly. "If you ever want to talk... or just need company."
Her kindness brings tears to my eyes. "Thank you," I whisper, squeezing her hand. "That means more than you know."
After they leave, I feel lighter, more hopeful. Maybe we can build some sort of relationship. The last thing I want is for them to think I'm trying to replace their mother. That's not something I'd ever do. But I don't want us at odds all the time either.
I'm just about to fall asleep, when my phone buzzes. Glancing at the screen, I see it's Mam on a video call. I haven't spoken to her since our lunch.
"Mam," I breathe as I answer.
"Oh, my darling girl," my mother's voice comes through, filled with concern. "How are you feeling? I've been so worried."
I can see worry etched on her face through the screen. It's clear she knows what happened.
"I'm doing better, Mam," I assure her, trying to sound stronger than I feel. "Still sore, but healing. Are you back in Belfast?"
She shakes her head. "No. Your brothers are back, and they've had your father... dealt with. But I'm still here in Boston. Your husband needed you to recover without stress, that’s why I haven’t stopped by."
My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline. I hadn't expected that. "You are?" I whisper. "Why?"
My mother's eyes soften. "Because you need me, love. I'm not leaving you alone after what happened."
Tears well up in my eyes. "Oh, Mam," I whisper. "Thank you. But what about Father?"
She shakes her head firmly. "Your brothers are handling things back home. My place is here with you right now. How are you really doing, sweetheart? And don't try to put on a brave face for me."
Her words break something inside me. Before I know it, I'm crying, pouring out everything I've been holding back, the fear, the pain, the confusion about my changing relationship with Cesare and his family.
My mother listens patiently, offering soothing words.
When I finally calm down, she says gently, "You've been so strong, my girl. But you don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to lean on others, to let yourself heal."
I nod, wiping my eyes. "I'm trying, Mam. It's just... everything's changing so fast. I don't know how to handle it all."
"One day at a time, love," she advises. "That's all any of us can do. And know that I'm here for you, always."
I take a deep breath, knowing she's right. Just one day at a time.
"What happened to Father?" I ask. I'd assumed Cesare killed him.
My mother's expression grows somber. She hesitates before speaking.
"Your father... he's alive," she says carefully. "But he's been severely injured. From what I understand, he'll never be able to hurt anyone again."
Relief floods through me. "What do you mean?" I ask hesitantly.
My mother sighs heavily. "Cesare made sure your father would pay for what he did to you. I don't know all the details, and frankly, I don't want to. But your father is in a facility now, under constant care. He can't speak, can't move on his own. He's essentially trapped in his own body."
I process her words, trying to understand what this means. Relief that my father can't hurt me or anyone else anymore wars with complicated feelings about what Cesare did.
"How do you feel about that?" I ask softly.
She's quiet for a moment, eyes distant. "Honestly? I feel relieved," she admits. "I know that might sound terrible, but after years of living in fear, of watching him hurt you and not being able to stop it... I'm glad he can't hurt us anymore."
I nod, understanding completely. "I think I feel the same way," I confess. "Is that wrong?"
"No, love," my mother says firmly. "After what he put you through, what he put all of us through, it's natural to feel relieved that it's over. You don't have to feel guilty."
