We built new rhythms \u2014 late-night feedings, soft lullabies, shared laughter at 3 a.m. The house was filled with gentle noise again \u2014\u00a0our<\/i>\u00a0kind of noise.<\/p>\n
No sudden phone calls. No interference. Just peace.<\/p>\n
One night, Mark found an old photo \u2014 himself as a child, his mother smiling beside him. He stood there for a long time, the image trembling in his hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s gone,\u201d he whispered.
\nI wrapped my arms around him. \u201cYou didn\u2019t lose her today, Mark. You lost her a long time ago. You just stopped pretending.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded, tears falling freely now. \u201cI should\u2019ve protected you sooner.\u201d
\n\u201cYou did,\u201d I said softly. \u201cWhen it mattered most.\u201d<\/p>\n
Weeks later, a small cardboard box arrived from Diane\u2019s lawyer \u2014 his childhood keepsakes.
\nA baseball glove. Comic books. An old photo.<\/p>\n
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