The soft light of late afternoon streamed through the suite's windows, painting the scene before me in warm, golden tones. The gentle breeze moved the white curtains, and for a moment, I felt as if time had slowed down. There, before me, were them: my daughter and the woman who, little by little, was rewriting everything I understood about love, patience, and starting over.
Isa was sitting on the edge of the empty bathtub, a brush in her hand and a small hair elastic between her teeth. Giulia, in her Minnie Mouse pajamas, smiled and swung her feet while letting her brush her golden hair with care and affection. They were so absorbed in each other that they didn't even notice my presence at the bathroom door.
The way Isabella spoke softly to my daughter, how she laughed at childish jokes
