Chapter 13 - THE HOUSE WITH THE YELLOW DOOR
We bought a small house near the coast.
Three bedrooms.
A garden.
A kitchen with too little counter space.
And a yellow front door.
Sophie chose the color.
Miguel painted it himself.
I stood on the porch watching him.
For a moment, I remembered the day I believed I'd lost him forever.
Then he turned.
Smiled.
And held out the paintbrush.
"Your turn."
I laughed.
Our new life wasn't perfect.
Miguel continued therapy.
I returned to work, eventually taking a position managing housekeeping operations at a small hotel.
Sophie started kindergarten.
She made friends.
Learned to ride a bicycle.
And insisted on showing everyone pictures of Bruno.
Dante visited occasionally.
He never arrived with an entourage.
Usually, he brought groceries or something Sophie had requested.
One afternoon, he arrived carrying a giant stuffed dog.
Sophie stared.
"It's Bruno!"
Dante smiled.
"Smaller version."
She hugged it.
Then looked at him.
"Does he bark?"
Dante laughed.
"Not unless you teach him."
Miguel watched from the doorway.
After Sophie ran inside, he approached Dante.
"Thank you."
Dante shook his head.
"You've already thanked me."
Miguel smiled.
"I know."
He looked toward the house.
"But I don't think you understand what you gave us."
Dante's expression softened.
Miguel continued.
"You gave us time."
For a moment, Dante couldn't speak.
Then he nodded.
"Use it well."
That evening, Sophie fell asleep holding her stuffed Bruno.
Miguel and I sat on the porch.
The ocean breeze moved through the trees.
He took my hand.
"Happy?"
I smiled.
"Yes."
He kissed my forehead.
May you like
"Me too."
And for the first time in three years, the night felt safe.
