Lily looked down at her hands.
“I thought maybe you loved her more because she wasn’t annoying.”
That sentence hit every bruise I couldn’t show.
I moved my chair closer, slow enough not to crowd her.
“You never have to earn your place with me,” I said. “Not by being easy. Not by being quiet. That’s on me to prove now, not on you to believe right away.”
She didn’t hug me. I was glad she didn’t force one just because I was crying and she was kind.
She just leaned sideways until her shoulder touched my arm.
Later, after both girls were upstairs, I found Mara in the laundry room sewing the loose ear back onto June’s rabbit under the bright task light.
The room smelled like warm cotton and detergent.
“I can replace that,” I said.
She kept stitching.
“I know,” she said. “That’s not why it matters.”
