Sophie considered it.
Then she moved beside Amanda and slipped her hand into her aunt’s.
I noticed Amanda didn’t turn her face to hide her scar.
And Sophie stood proudly, her white patches visible
against her pink dress.
I raised my phone.
“Everybody ready?”
They smiled.
I took the picture.
Later that evening, I printed it and added it to the album.
Amanda had given it back to me after we reconciled enough to talk comfortably again.
On the final page, under the new photograph, I wrote seven words.
“A perfect picture. Nobody had to hide.”
I sent Amanda a copy.
She called me the next morning.
“Brittany,” she said, her voice trembling, “thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me what a beautiful family actually looks like.”
I glanced toward the kitchen, where Sophie was eating breakfast, laughing at something Nate had said.
“I hope you remember this time,” I told her.
