Giulia was lying on her stomach on the living room rug, drawing with markers scattered everywhere. The afternoon sun streamed through the white curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls, and for a moment, everything seemed calm. As calm as my life had been able to be lately.
I sat on the sofa, watching my daughter's small, focused movements. She bit the tip of her tongue while trying to draw a perfect heart, and I found that absurdly beautiful. Delicate. Almost fragile.
"Daddy?" she called without lifting her face.
"Hmm?" I replied, already feeling that a difficult question was coming. She always had one of those stored up.
"Do you think Mommy would have liked Isa?"
The question cut through me like a very thin blade: quiet, but deep. I felt the air escape my lungs before I could for
