“Kind of,” I managed softly. “We’re still learning to trust each other. And that takes time. Slowly.”
Clara nodded, satisfied enough, and rested her head back against my arm like the question had never been dangerous at all.
I stayed still, stroking her hair, because the simple truth behind her words felt like a quiet earthquake.
“Mommy, can we read one more?” she asked, tugging my sleeve.
I smiled and reached for another book.
“Of course, baby.”
As I began to read, I saw the side garden door open in my peripheral vision.
Enrico appeared—quiet, careful.
I didn’t know what filled his days now that Dreamland was dead, but I did know he’d been trying to give us space. He did this every day.
And still, it surprised me.
Because a secret part of me kept waiting for him to give up.
Two weeks wasn’t enough time for me to believe in him.
I wasn’t sure a century would be.
Enrico stopped and waited—giving Clara time to notice him before he came closer. His eyes met mine briefly, a silent question.
I gave a small nod.
He approached a few steps and sat in a nearby chair, keeping a respectful distance.
Clara lifted her head, gaze fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Then she did something that made my chest go tight.
“Do you want to hear the story too, Uncle Enrico?” she asked, voice small and uncertain.
My heart jumped.
Enrico’s face changed—barely—but I saw it. Emotion, carefully restrained.
“I’d love to,” he said, smiling softly and sitting still, as if any sudden movement might scare her away.
***
A few more weeks passed.
That first timid invitation became a hinge in our routine—small, but powerful. It seemed to give Enrico the courage to keep going, always slow, always careful.
It was a warm, sunny Saturday.
We were in the garden again. Clara was watering flowers with a little pink watering can—her new obsession. She spoke to the plants in a whisper, like they were friends holding secrets.
I watched from a distance, letting her have her peace.
Then movement caught my attention.
Enrico was coming from his office, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, white shirt slightly rumpled. He held something small in his hands and walked carefully, like he was trying not to spook her.
