Sarah smiled and waved back.
Then she stayed where she was.
She did not walk over.
She did not pull up a chair.
She did not place herself inside a moment that belonged to Emma and me.
She simply allowed us to have it.
Emma rested her head against my shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re here, Mom,” she whispered.
I wrapped my arm around her and held her close.
For years, people had told me I should be grateful that another woman loved my daughter.
They were not wrong.
A child can never have too many people who genuinely care for her.
But love without boundaries can become something else.
It can become possession.
It can become replacement.
It can quietly push someone aside while convincing everyone that nothing harmful is happening.
Sarah did love Emma.
I believe that.
But learning to love her properly meant accepting that she did not need to become Emma’s mother.
