Elijah answered for him, his tone bright, innocent. “Because he makes breakfast! And he helps fix stuff! And he listens when we talk!”
Caleb nodded solemnly, as if confirming a serious fact. “If he lived here, it would be like having a daddy.”
The words slipped into the room, simple and pure—but they hit harder than they should have. I set my cup down carefully, staring at the rising steam to steady myself.
I had told myself they were too young to understand what they didn’t have. That their laughter was enough to fill the spaces where a father’s voice should’ve been. But now, hearing the quiet longing in their tone, I realized I had been lying—to them, and to myself.
They deserved more than what I’d been able to give them.
More love. More safety. More family.
I reached out and brush
