Bianca.

“You’re here to see me. So, let’s go inside,” she insisted, pulling me along.

“Mom, Dad, look who’s here,” she announced, ushering me in. “It’s Bianca.”

“Bianca,” her mother called, rising to her feet. She rushed toward me and enveloped me in a motherly hug. “It’s so good to see you again, dear.” I melted into her embrace.

“How are you doing, ma’am?” I asked, as she smoothed my hair, showing genuine affection, unlike my own mother, who often faked it.

“I’m fine, darling,” she replied, holding my hand and leading me to the sofa, where she gestured for me to sit. She caressed my hand. “We all miss...