Silvia stood there.
She was holding a small bag.
“Can I come in?”
I didn’t say “of course” immediately.
Not because I wanted to punish her.
But because I was afraid.
Afraid she would come inside, see the baby, and we would start arguing again.
But then I looked at her face.
She looked tired.
Not angry.
Just tired.
“Come in,” I said.
She put the bag on the table.
Inside was a small knitted blanket.
Pink, with white flowers around the edges.
“I made it myself,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to bring.”
Emilia was lying in her crib, moving her little arms.
Silvia slowly approached.
“Can I hold her?”
My heart tightened.
I looked at my daughter.
Then at the baby.
“Yes.”
Silvia picked her up awkwardly.
For the first few seconds, she looked as though she didn’t know where to put her hands.
