"Did you ever think we'd be happy like this?" Her question, asked with such innocence, clenches my heart.
I press a kiss into her hair. "Never," I admit. "But we made it, little one." I'm not going to be able to call her that much longer. Even now, it's a stretch—she's almost as tall as me.
She snuggles against me, filling my soul with light.
The past lingers, its ghosts never far, but with Yara in my arms and Morello at my side, I have all I need.
I close the album, the memories still vivid though dulled by time.
"Let's take a walk," I say. "There are some places I want to show you."
Yara skips beside me, her hand tucked in mine as we make our way down the cracked sidewalks of my old neighborhood.
I point out the tiny corner store that sells candy by the piece, the graffitied basketball court where I had my first kiss.
With each familiar sight, I share a piece of our history, the good and the bad.
Yara listens, wide-eyed, as if I'm describing a foreign land instead of the streets I once called home.
I pause outside the old apartment building, gazing up at the sagging fire escape.
"This is where I first learned to fight for us," I told her. Where I swore nothing would break me, not poverty, not violence, not fear.
Yara squeezes my hand, our silent language of love and understanding.
The neighborhood holds ghosts, but it forged me too.
Every challenge made me stronger, more determined, until I was finally able to take control of our destiny.
I pull Yara close again, filled with overwhelming gratitude for the little girl who gave me purpose.
My choices took us away from here, but her love has led me home, even if briefly.
I nodded slowly as we walk, lost in memories.
The cracked sidewalks and faded graffiti stir up complicated feelings—nostalgia, grief, pride.
This place represents where we come from, the good and bad.
I lead Yara to a small park, the same one where I met with Dominika right before we left for America, the grass now overgrown but still a rare oasis of green in the concrete jungle.
We sit on a bench and I take a deep breath, knowing it's time to share parts of my past I'd kept hidden even from her.
"I made a lot of hard choices, back then," I begin.
Yara watches me closely, her eyes intent.
"Choices I thought would protect us, but that put you in danger too."
My voice catches and I look away, ashamed.
But Yara reaches for my hand, her fingers curling around mine.
"That's all over now, Mama," she says gently. "We're okay because of you."
I turn back, tears blurring my vision. Her simple faith in me is humbling.
She's right—the past is done.