The morning began like any other—soft light spilling across the apartment, the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen, Noah humming a song while lining up his toy animals in a precise pattern.
Ethan watched him for a moment, leaning against the counter, mug in hand. There was a rhythm to these mornings now, one he had fought quietly to establish. Each small step forward felt like a victory.
Noah spoke without looking up. “Daddy, do you think Mommy will come today?”
Ethan smiled faintly. “I think she will.”
Noah paused. “I hope she brings that smile she makes when she’s not scared.”
Ethan’s chest tightened, not from alarm but from gratitude. The boy was noticing changes, subtle ones—proof that yesterday’s choices, today’s intentions, were taking root.
After breakfast, they walked t
