Lily nodded without hesitation, her small hand squeezing his gently, as if that answer had never been in question.
Weeks passed, and slowly, the edges of everything softened, though the center remained, unchanged and quietly present.
Leo’s hair began to grow back, uneven at first, soft strands curling slightly at the ends, not yet what it had been, but becoming something familiar again.
Brenda finally called one evening, her voice hesitant in a way I had never heard before, lacking its usual confidence.
“I was wondering if I could come by,” she said, and the question itself felt like a shift, small but significant.
I glanced at Mark, who was standing across the room, watching me, not intervening, but present in a way that made the decision shared.
“Okay,” I said after a moment, though my voice carried the weight of everything that had happened, not erased, just acknowledged.
When she arrived, she didn’t step inside immediately, pausing at the doorway as if unsure whether she was still welcome.
Leo stood behind me, half-hidden, his hand lightly gripping the edge of my shirt, not afraid, but cautious in a way that hadn’t been there before.
Brenda knelt slightly to meet his eye level, her movements slower, more careful, as if she understood now that everything she did mattered differently.
“I’m really sorry, Leo,” she said, her voice steady but soft, not rushed, not defensive, just present.
