My father reached up and took Rosa’s hand, squeezing it tightly in silent gratitude.

I stood back for a moment, watching the three of them.

The anger inside me did not vanish instantly.

It was still there, a cold ember in the corner of my heart.

But the sharp, cutting edge of it began to soften.

I took a slow step forward, then another, until I was standing right beside them.

My father looked up at me through his tears, his eyes filled with a quiet hope.

I did not say anything, but I knelt down on the floor next to Martina.

I reached out and placed my hand on my father’s arm.

He immediately reached over and pulled me into the embrace, holding both of his daughters tight.

The warmth of his arms was something I had not realized I missed so much.

We stayed like that on the floor of the hallway for a long time, the four of us, holding onto each other as the rain began to patter softly against the high windows.