The tears I’d willed away came flooding back. I let them fall. I let them fall, though they drenched my dress and made a mess of my face and hair. I let them fall, though it hurt like hell to cry like that.

I had never cried for my parents before. Not since losing them. Not since I was five. When I’d cried back then, it was the tears of a child who didn’t understand why her mother wasn’t there to tuck her in at night anymore. Or why her father wasn’t there to lift her up in his arms and swing her around and around. Now that I understood my loss, I was finally able to really grieve for them.

Bowen held me in his arms and let me cry. He didn’t say a word, but his hands stroked my hair and back, wordlessly providing comfort.

After a while, the tears stopped coming and I was able to breathe normally again.

I hugged Bowen and stood up. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for understanding that I needed to hear this.”

“Well, that’s what family is for,” he said softly. “I will always be here for you, Lailah.”