No one was told that love had to be earned through obedience.
Some nights, Ethan and I stayed up talking about the year we had lost. He told me about sleeping in shelters, finding work and meeting Hannah. I told him how often I had called, how many messages I had left and how deeply I regretted failing to stand beside him when he needed me most.
I did not ask him to forgive me immediately.
I had spent years believing that apologies could erase the consequences of silence. Now I understood that trust had to be rebuilt through consistent actions.
I helped Hannah care for Helen while she studied. Ethan returned to drawing and began filling sketchbooks with birds again. Slowly, the guarded expression he had carried back to my doorstep began to disappear.
One morning before sunrise, I stood beside the kitchen window rocking Helen in my arms.
