After Maria’s death, I couldn’t imagine ever being able to breathe again – let alone love again. Grief had devastated me. Every day was like a shadow I dragged behind me. But then Amina came into our lives – quiet, radiant. Her warmth slowly melted the ice in my heart. And when Sofia started laughing again, I dared to hope for the first time: maybe we really could start over.
Sofia was only five, but she took to Amina with surprising ease. I remember their first meeting in the park. Sofia in no way wanted to leave the swing, begging:
Just a little more, Daddy!
And then Amina came over, smiled softly and said:
You know, I always thought that if you swing a little higher, you can touch the clouds.
Sofia’s eyes lit up. From that moment on, Amina became something magical to her.
After the wedding, we moved into an old house that Amina had inherited from her grandmother. High ceilings, carved railings, cosiness, as if hidden from the world. Sofia was thrilled with her new room. She spun round and shouted joyfully:
Like a princess, Daddy! Can I paint the walls purple?
You’ll have to ask Amina, sweetheart. This is her house.
It’s our house now,” Amina corrected me gently, squeezing my hand. – And purple is a great idea. We’ll choose the shade together.
Then I had to go away on a business trip for a week – for the first time since the wedding. I was worried about leaving the two of them alone.
It’ll be fine,” Amina said, handing me a mug of coffee. – Sofia and I are going to have a girls’ week.
We’ll paint our nails, Daddy! – Sofia laughed as I kissed her forehead.
Everything seemed fine. But when I returned, Sofia ran into my arms with the kind of strength she had only hugged me since Maria’s death.
Daddy, the new mum is different when you’re gone,” she whispered, trembling.
My heart froze.
What do you mean, bunny?
She locks herself in the attic. I hear strange noises. And she’s mean. She won’t give me ice cream even though I’ve been good. And I have to clean my own room-” Sophia’s voice trembled. – ‘I thought she liked me…’
My heart clenched. I remembered how Amina had gone to the attic before she left, saying she was “sorting out old things”. I hadn’t given it much thought. But now… I was too eager to rebuild my family – and maybe I’d missed something because of it?
When Amina came down the stairs that evening, I didn’t say anything. Just tucked Sofia in, promised to have a tea party, and tried to allay her fears. But at night I couldn’t sleep. Shadows danced across the ceiling and questions swirled in my head.
Around midnight, I saw Amina quietly get up and go upstairs. I waited, then followed. The door to the attic was ajar, and she disappeared inside. I hesitated for a second – and went up too.
What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks.
The attic was completely transformed. Light pastel walls, flashing garlands, shelves with Sofia’s favourite books. A cosy window with cushions, paints, a tea table with small porcelain cups. Amina was just setting out the kettle when she turned round, startled.
I wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled. – For Sofia…
It was magical. But I asked anyway:
Why are you being so hard on her?
She wilted.
I wanted her to be independent. I was trying to be a good mum. Not a replacement for Maria, but… the right one. – Her voice trembled. – ‘But maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong…’
You don’t have to be perfect,’ I said quietly. – You just have to be there for me. For real.
Tears filled her eyes. She sat down on the windowsill:
I tried to be like my mum. She had rules. But Sofia doesn’t need strictness. She needs love, stories, mess… biscuits.
The next night, we took Sofia up to the attic. She was hiding behind my leg, but curiosity got the best of her.
Is this… for me? – she whispered.
Amina nodded:
Everything is for you. And now we’ll clean the room together. With ice cream. And fairy tales.
Sofia stared at her for a long moment, then threw herself into a hug.
I love it. Thank you, new mum.
Can we have tea parties here? With real tea?
With hot chocolate,” Amina smiled. – And biscuits. Lots of biscuits.
Later, tucking Sofia in, I heard her whisper:
New mum isn’t scary anymore. She’s kind.
I kissed her forehead. The knot in my chest began to slowly loosen.
Our path to family was not a straight and smooth one. But maybe that’s why it was real. We were still learning – not perfectly, with mistakes – but with love at the centre.
And in the morning, I found Amina and Sofia in the attic. They were giggling over a story, with chocolate on their fingers. And I realised: we were going to be fine.
