Page 147 of Scars and Crowns

Her eyes fill.

She crouches down and pulls Sara into her arms so quickly that the bouquet nearly gets crushed between them. "Oh, my baby." She presses a kiss against Sara's hair. Then another.

Sara giggles into her shoulder. "I made the card too."

"You did?"

"Papa helped."

Anamika looks over Sara's head at me. There are tears running down her cheeks now.

I shrug lightly. "I mostly supplied the spelling."

"You drew Papa very tall," Anamika says.

"I was forced to." Sara pulls back, offended. "Papa is very tall."

"I know, sweetheart." Anamika laughs through her tears. It's a small laugh, but it reaches me. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that sound.

She stands eventually, still holding the bouquet carefully against her chest, and walks toward me. I don't say anything. Neither does she. She simply steps into my arms.

The flowers are caught awkwardly between us, one of the daisies pressing against my chest, but I don't move them. I wrap my arms around her and feel her exhale against me, long and slow, the tension leaving her body little by little.

"Thank you," she whispers.

I press my lips to her hair. "We made it."

She pulls back slightly. "We?"

I nod toward the garden.

Sara is already crouched beside the flower bed, apparently reunited with her caterpillar and entirely finished with the emotional portion of the afternoon.

"I only had the idea," I tell her. "She did everything else."

Anamika looks at our daughter. Something soft passes over her face. Then she looks back at me. "I don't know what I did to deserve this."

I touch her cheek. "Maybe you don't have to deserve it." Her eyes flicker. "You can just have it."

For a second she doesn't answer. Then she leans into my hand, closing her eyes. I think about everything she told me. The things she has spent years carrying. The things she is only now learning how to put down. And I realize that maybe this is what loving someone through healing actually looks like.

Not fixing them.

Not asking them to be better.

Not dragging them toward some finish line because you're impatient for them to reach it.

Sometimes it's just knowing when to leave the door open. Sometimes it's flowers on the front steps. Sometimes it's a badly drawn family of three holding hands. Sometimes it's making sure the person you love comes home to something gentle.

Anamika opens her eyes and looks at me. "I love you."

I smile. "I love you too."

She glances down at the bouquet and laughs softly when she notices the rescued rose has already lost another petal. "It's a little messy."

"So is the rest of our life." She looks at me. I smile. "And I wouldn't change it."

Her eyes fill again, but this time she laughs before the tears can fall. Behind her, Sara suddenly calls out. "Papa! Mumma! The caterpillar is gone!"