Their daughter remained the center of her life.
Naya heard about the changes indirectly.
She didn't celebrate the woman's difficulties.
The mistress had behaved cruelly toward her.
That remained true.
But watching another mother struggle to provide a stable home for an infant brought Naya no satisfaction.
There were moments when she still felt angry about the slap, the insults, and the arrogance with which the woman entered her house.
Naya didn't deny those feelings.
She simply refused to organize the rest of her life around them.
When the mistress later sent a longer written apology, Naya read it carefully.
The woman acknowledged that she'd knowingly participated in humiliating Naya and had allowed herself to believe that being chosen by a man justified treating his wife badly.
She didn't excuse the slap.
She didn't ask Naya to pretend they'd both been equally responsible.
And she admitted that, even though the husband lied to her about the house and the divorce, she had made her own harmful decisions.
Naya appreciated the accountability.
She didn't offer friendship.
But she answered with one sentence.
I hope both children grow up knowing they never had to compete for love.
Then she put the letter away.
A year after the confrontation, Naya returned to full-time professional work.
She'd remained connected with former clients throughout the pregnancy and early months of motherhood, taking on limited projects when her schedule allowed.
Now she accepted a new role overseeing interior renovations for a regional housing organization.
The work suited her.
She loved transforming neglected spaces into homes people could live in safely and comfortably.
She understood budgets.
Contractors.
Design decisions.
And the patience required to complete difficult projects.
Her experience with her own house made her especially attentive to clients who felt overwhelmed by renovation costs.
She knew how frightening it could be to commit savings to a building that needed more repairs than expected.
She also knew the satisfaction of seeing progress.
One afternoon, a young client stood beside her in a damaged kitchen and sighed.
"I don't think this place will ever look right."
Naya smiled.
She examined the room.
The worn floor.
The peeling cabinets.
And the window overlooking a neglected garden.
Then answered.
"It won't happen all at once."
The client looked toward her.
Naya continued.
"But we can make a plan, handle the important repairs first, and build from there."
For a moment, she remembered herself at twenty-four, standing in the rain outside the house she eventually bought.
The fear.
The uncertainty.