I was about to tell her I would have liked to always see her happy and pretty like that, as a girl should be at twenty. Then I considered that maybe with others she is like that, completely different from how we know her. And when I asked myself uneasily if one of those attitudes is a fiction, a deception, I realized that it’s not that she’s different, but the roles she’s compelled to play at home and outside are different. The most disagreeable is reserved for us.
