Maria's eyes were wet now too. The dam had cracked. Not from agreement—from recognition. From seeing her daughter wear the same look Maria herself had worn once, long ago, before life sandblasted it off her face.
"When I'm with him, I feel... whole." Valentina's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Like I finally found the place I was always supposed to be. Like every wrong turn and every heartbreak and every lonely night was just leading me to this. To him. To them. To us."
A long silence.
Maria stared at her daughter—this woman who had somehow grown up without her noticing, who had become someone strong and certain and terrifyingly in love. Terrifying because love that certain usually ends in someone getting sectioned or sectioned off.
"I don't understand this," Maria finally said, her voice rough. "I don't understand any of it. A man with multiple women... in my day, we had a word for men like that. Several words, none of them kind."
