My throat burned hot. “Oh, sweetheart.”
Ava kept going, voice trembling.
“I don’t care if kids are mean to me,” she whispered. “That’s fine. I don’t mind. I don’t care.” She took a shaky breath. “But he does, Mama. And Leo’s my friend.”
Oh, my brave girl.
I turned toward her fully, pulling her into my arms, holding her tight as emotion surged through me.
Her little voice broke. “I didn’t want him to feel sad. So I hit the other boy.”
I closed my eyes. God, I wished the world were softer for kids like them.
“Ava,” I murmured, voice thick, “fighting isn’t the best choice. We’ll work on better ways to handle things, okay?”
She nodded, small and ashamed.
“But listen to me,” I whispered fiercely, tilting her chin so she looked at me. “Standing up for someone who needs help? That is good. That is brave. And I am so proud of you.”
Her lip trembled. “Even though I got in trouble?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Even then.”
She let out a tiny sob and buried her face in my chest.
I held her tighter.
Then, in the smallest voice, she asked, “Does Grandma hate me?”
My heart cracked right down the center.
“No,” I said, firm and gentle at once. “She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t always understand you. But that’sherproblem, not yours. You are perfect as you are.”
She lifted her head, eyes big and glossy. “Really?”
“Really,” I said, kissing her forehead. “You are brave. And kind. And one day the world will catch up.”
She curled into me again, finally relaxing, her breathing softening into the slow rhythm of sleep.
But I stayed awake.
Holding her.
Protecting her.
And making a quiet, powerful promise to myself. We are leaving this house. We are carving out a life where she never has to ask that question again. We are getting out.
Because Ava deserved a world where she wasn’t too much or too little, justAva.
And I deserved a world where I could breathe. Where I could create. Where I could feel something new and real, something like the spark I felt every time Alex looked at me.
I held her until the sky outside the window turned pale.
And in that early morning stillness . . .
I made up my mind.
21
