And occasionally, she said something that made me realize how much anger she'd been holding inside.
One evening, she told me she hated the house.
I looked at her.
"Why?"
She shrugged.
"Because bad things happened here."
I took a breath.
I wanted to tell her the house was safe now.
I wanted to point out that Patricia no longer lived with us and that we had changed the routines.
But I understood that safety wasn't something I could declare into existence.
So I asked, "What would make it feel better?"
Sophia thought for a long time.
Then she said, "Can we paint my room?"
I smiled.
"What color?"
"Yellow."
I laughed.
"Like the drawing?"
She nodded.
"With flowers."
I looked toward her.
"Then let's do it."
The following Saturday, we bought paint.
My mother-in-law helped us choose a soft yellow shade, and Sophia insisted on selecting small wall decorations shaped like butterflies and sunflowers.
We spent the weekend moving furniture, protecting the floor, and painting carefully.
Sophia couldn't do every part of the work, but she helped with appropriate tasks and offered strong opinions about where the decorations should go.
At one point, I accidentally dropped a little paint onto my shoe.
She gasped.
Then I looked down.
"Well, that's unfortunate."
Sophia stared.
I laughed.
"Guess I'm not a professional painter."
For a moment, she looked uncertain.
Then she began laughing too.
We stood in the middle of the room, both wearing old clothes, laughing at a paint stain that would've terrified her only months earlier.
And I realized something.
We weren't simply redecorating.
We were teaching her that mistakes didn't have to lead to fear.
The legal end of my marriage came the following spring.
The separation had been difficult, and there were financial matters that required negotiation. Patricia continued to maintain that she'd acted with good intentions, although she acknowledged withholding Sophia's letters and making decisions without consulting me.
The professionals involved reviewed the circumstances and addressed the concerns about Sophia's treatment through the appropriate processes. My attorney advised me throughout, and I followed the guidance I received rather than turning the situation into a public battle.
I didn't post accusations online.
I didn't contact Patricia's employer.
I didn't attempt to humiliate her in the way my daughter had been humiliated.
My priority was protecting Sophia and creating a stable home.
The divorce was finalized after several months.
When I received the confirmation, I expected to feel victorious.
Instead, I felt tired.
I sat in my office holding the paperwork and thinking about the day I'd married Patricia.