Rosa stood beside us, her coat on, holding her small suitcase.

“Are we ready?” my father asked.

“Yes,” Martina said, her voice firm and happy.

“Yes,” I said, looking at the heavy oak doors that were now wide open, letting in the cool evening breeze.

We walked out of the house together, none of us looking back as the door clicked shut behind us.

The estate was silent, but it was a silence of peace, of a truth finally spoken, and of a family finally home.