Chapter 3 — Why Victoria Was So Angry
Victoria stood near the fireplace with her arms folded.
Daniel remained beside Sophie.
“Why?” he asked.
Victoria looked exhausted.
“Why what?”
“Why were you treating her like that?”
“I wasn’t hurting her.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Stop minimizing what I saw.”
Victoria looked away.
For years, Daniel had known she struggled with Sophie.
Victoria was not Sophie’s biological mother.
Daniel’s first wife, Emily, had died when Sophie was only two.
Two years later, he met Victoria.
At first, Victoria seemed wonderful with Sophie.
Patient.
Affectionate.
Almost too perfect.
Daniel believed the two would eventually become family.
But as Sophie grew older, something changed.
She started talking more about Emily.
She asked to see photographs.
She wanted to hear stories about her mother.
Daniel thought it was healthy.
Victoria did not.
“She compares me to her,” Victoria finally said.
Daniel frowned.
“To Emily?”
Victoria laughed bitterly.
“Every day.”
“That’s not true.”
“She asks how Emily did her hair.”
Victoria’s voice became emotional.
“She asks what Emily cooked. What songs Emily liked. What dress she wore to your wedding.”
Daniel stared at her.
“She misses her mother.”
“And what am I supposed to be?”
Victoria’s eyes filled with tears.
“Temporary?”
Daniel’s anger shifted slightly.
He understood the insecurity.
But not what she had done with it.
“You’re supposed to be Victoria.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
She pointed toward Sophie.
“She has a dead mother I can never compete with.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“You were never supposed to compete with her.”
Victoria shook her head.
“You don’t see it.”
“I see a little girl trying to remember someone she lost.”
Victoria’s voice cracked.
“And every memory reminds me that I’m not her mother.”
Daniel stared at her for several seconds.
Then he answered quietly:
“You’re right.”
Victoria looked stunned.
“You’re not her mother.”
Sophie looked up.
Daniel continued:
“And that never had to be an insult.”
He looked toward Sophie.
“She could have loved you without forgetting Emily.”
Victoria began crying.
“I tried.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“You tried to make her stop talking about her.”
Victoria wiped her face.
“She would look at me and say, ‘Mommy used to do it differently.’”
Daniel sighed.
“She’s six.”
“But I’m human.”
“And she’s a child.”
The difference mattered.
Victoria sat down.
Her anger seemed to collapse under its own weight.
“I thought if she respected me more, eventually she would accept me.”
Daniel looked toward the security footage still paused on his phone.
“That isn’t respect.”
Victoria whispered:
“I know.”
For the first time, her voice sounded ashamed.
Sophie watched her.
Daniel noticed.
He did not pressure the child to forgive her.
He did not ask her to hug Victoria.
He simply kept himself between them.
Victoria finally said:
“I’m sorry, Sophie.”
The little girl did not answer.
Victoria began crying harder.
Daniel looked at her.
“You need help.”
Victoria stared at him.
“I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That whatever fear, jealousy, or grief you’ve been carrying cannot become Sophie’s burden.”
Victoria covered her face.
Daniel looked toward his daughter.
For years, he believed Sophie needed a new mother.
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Now he understood she needed something much simpler.
Adults who allowed her to love the mother she lost without making her feel guilty for it.
