“Yes.”
“Your father didn't know.”
“No.”
“You didn't know.”
“No.”
I look at Xavier.
“I spent years hating you.”
“You spent several weeks hating me.”
“Emotionally, it was very intense.”
His mouth almost moves.
Then I break.
One tear.
Then another.
Xavier pulls me into him.
No words.
He knows.
He always knows when words make things worse.
I cry for Papa.
For the years.
For the girl who turned grief into code because code could be solved.
For the fact that the answer finally exists and still cannot bring him back.
Xavier holds me until I can breathe again.
When I finally pull away, his thumb wipes beneath my eyes.
“Done?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
“I'll probably cry again later.”
“Allowed.”
“Very generous.”
“I try.”