He simply placed a photo on the table.
A newborn baby. Eyes closed. Tiny hands curled.
Ethan stared at it, his expression slowly shifting.
“His name is Noah,” Dr. Brooks said quietly. “He has your mother’s nose.”
Ethan’s voice broke.
“I’m not enough for them… I never have been.”
Dr. Brooks leaned forward.
“That’s not your decision anymore. Being a father isn’t about being ready. It’s about choosing to stay.”
He slid a piece of paper across the table.
“Your mother waited for you until her last day. Don’t let that be the story you repeat.”
