“Mommy, let’s not keep broken things.”

Daisy turned the photo album face down on the table, hooked my finger and gently shook it.

My thoughts stopped abruptly. I smiled at her and looked away.

Once something is broken, it stays broken. Even if it’s repaired, the damage remains.

I packed up my things and moved them to another apartment in my name.

It was a house with three bedrooms and one living. Daisy and I each had our own room, and I divided the remaining room into two walk-in closets for us.

The space was small but cozy.

After organizing Daisy’s things, I noticed the empty closet and felt a...