The morning air carried a crispness that felt unusual, almost sharp, as if the world itself was aware that today might be different. Ethan woke to the faint hum of traffic outside and the soft, rhythmic breathing of Noah, still curled in a ball at the edge of his bed. The quiet of the house felt heavier this morning, not oppressive, but expectant, like the pause before a conversation that mattered more than most.
Noah stirred, blinking sleepily. “Daddy…”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Do you think… today will be okay?”
Ethan studied him for a moment, noting the small crease between his brows, the tentative hope in his eyes. “I think today can be okay,” he said carefully. “But remember, some days are tricky, even when we try our best. And that’s okay too.”
Noah nodded, trusting the words enough to let
