Sophie nodded slowly, accepting it in the simple way children sometimes accept truths adults complicate.
Then she said, “I’m glad you caught her.”
I walked over and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was still damp from the shower, smelling like strawberries.
“So am I,” I whispered.
She returned to stirring, humming under her breath, entirely absorbed in the small miracle of making something sweet.
And in that ordinary moment, in the warmth of our kitchen, I felt what I had wanted all along.
Not revenge. Not headlines. Not spectacle.
Safety.
A child who could breathe.
A child who could learn.
A child who could laugh without looking over her shoulder.
That was the only empire worth protecting.
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