Violet’s POV
When I had struggled to stop crying, Helene disappeared from the study, returning with a hairbrush from my bathroom. She had beckoned me over to sit on the floor between her legs while she sat on the couch. Still a crying mess, I did as I was told.
She was maybe five to ten years older than me, but when she started running the brush through my hair, I suddenly felt much younger. Memories of my mother doing the exact same thing flooded my mind. They didn’t sadden me; they soothed me.
By the time Helene put the brush down and started braiding my hair, the tears had finally stopped. My breathing slowed as I focused on the scrape of her nails along my scalp as she parted a new section to add to the braid.
“I know ‘braiding each other’s hair’ is a stereotype for women, but d
