And then his mother, who had arrived quietly, spoke from the doorway:
“In this family, we don’t break women down and call it care.”
Silence.
I looked at him.
“Pack a bag.”
No shouting.
No drama.
Just the end.
That night, as I put my daughters to bed, Annabel looked at me carefully.
“Mom… you’re not leaving again, right?”
I pulled her close.
“No,” I said. “I’m right here.”
Later, Nancy showed me a drawing.
Three figures, standing together.
“Us,” she said.
I smiled.
“Us.”
Because that’s what this was always about.
