Page 146 of Scars and Crowns

"This one needs a friend."

Of course it does.

I chuckle softly, she is so much like her mother it’s a tad bit terrifying because it feels like I am in a loop where I get to see Anamika grow once again.

I help her gather everything together while she carefully decides which flower belongs where. The final bouquet is a glorious mess of white, yellow, orange and pink, tied together with a ribbon that is slightly too long.

Sara holds it up. "It's not straight."

"No."

"Is it pretty?"

I look at the flowers. Then at her. "It's perfect."

She smiles. We arrange everything on the front steps afterward because Sara insists Mumma needs to see the surprise immediately when she gets home.

The card leans against a small vase between us. The bouquet sits beside it. And we wait. Sara eventually grows tired of sitting still and rests her head against my arm. "Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think Mumma will cry?"

I look down at her. "Probably."

"Good crying?"

I smile. "The best kind."

She nods thoughtfully. Then, after a moment, she asks, "Will she like the rose?"

"She'll love it."

"Even though it's a little broken?"

I glance toward the flower. "Especially because you saved it."

She nods, as though that settles something important. The afternoon light has begun to soften by the time the car finally appears at the end of the drive.

Sara sees it before I do. "Mumma!"

She's off the steps before I can even tell her to slow down. She runs barefoot across the gravel, bouquet clutched in both hands, the ribbon trailing behind her. I stand up quickly, more out of instinct than concern, but she reaches the car before I can take more than a few steps.

Anamika gets out slowly. The difference in her is immediate.

Not dramatic.

Just enough.

Her shoulders are lower than they were this morning. Her face carries the exhausted softness of someone who has spent an hour saying things that have been difficult to say. She closes the car door and stands there for a moment, breathing in the afternoon air as though she's reminding herself that she's home.

Then she sees Sara. Everything changes. Sara reaches her and holds out the bouquet with both hands. "We made this for you!" Anamika looks down. For a second, she doesn't move. Her eyes travel over the daisies, the marigolds, the jasmine, the slightly drooping rose tucked proudly in the middle.

Then she looks at Sara. "What is this?"

"It's because you had hard feelings today." Anamika's lips part. Sara continues before she can say anything. "Papa said you were talking to someone so you could feel better, so we made you something good to come home to."

I watch the exact moment the words reach her.