I glanced toward the letters.
"And these?"
Patricia's expression changed.
She stepped forward.
"I told you. They're just papers."
I moved slightly to keep her from reaching the box.
"Don't touch them."
She stopped.
For a moment, her eyes flashed with anger.
"This is my closet too."
"These are letters my daughter wrote to me."
Patricia stared.
Then she said something I will never forget.
"Maybe if you were home more often, she wouldn't need to write so many."
The words landed exactly where she intended.
I felt my chest tighten.
For three years, that had been her most effective weapon.
My absence.
My guilt.
My fear that Sophia was growing up without enough attention.
And she was using it again.
But this time, I was standing beside the evidence of what that absence had allowed.
I looked at Patricia.
"You're right about one thing."
She seemed surprised.
"I should have been home more."
Her expression softened slightly.
Then I continued.
"But that doesn't explain why you took the letters instead of giving them to me."
Her smile vanished.
"You're twisting everything."
I shook my head.
"No. I'm finally looking at it."
Sophia began crying behind me.
I turned immediately.
"Sweetheart?"
She was staring at Patricia.
Her breathing had become quick and shallow.
"Please don't fight."
I moved toward her.
"We're going to stop this conversation for now."
Patricia stepped forward.
"Oh, absolutely not. You're not letting her escape responsibility after causing all this."
I looked back.
"She didn't cause this."
Patricia pointed toward the box.
"She deliberately went through my belongings."
I felt my anger flare.
"She told me where her letters were. I opened the box."
"That's an invasion of privacy."
I stared at her.
"You opened letters addressed to me and hid them from my daughter."
Patricia's face reddened.
"Because she was using them to manipulate you."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Sophia is nine."
"Nine-year-olds can be manipulative."
I looked toward my daughter.
She had pressed herself against the wall.
I turned back to Patricia.
"Stop."
She opened her mouth.
I held up one hand.
"You're not going to stand here and accuse her of manipulation while she's frightened of both of us."
Patricia laughed bitterly.
"Of course. Now I'm the villain."
I didn't answer.
She stepped toward the box.
"This is ridiculous."
Then she reached down and grabbed a handful of letters.
Before I could react, she threw them across the closet floor.
Paper scattered beneath the hanging clothes.
One envelope slid against my shoe.
Sophia gasped.
"Please don't!"