Noah reached for Ethan then, as babies do, innocent of adult wreckage.
Ethan took him carefully.
“I chose who supported me,” Madison said. “I chose who protected me. I chose who heard our son’s first cry.”
Ethan looked down at Noah’s hand around his finger.
“And I chose what kind of future he would grow up inside.”
For a long moment, the parking lot noise faded around them.
Then Ethan nodded.
“You did.”
He looked back at her.
“I’m proud of you.”
A year earlier, those words would have opened something desperate in her.
Now they were simply kind.
Kindness was welcome.
It was not a chain.
Madison smiled.
“Thank you.”
They walked to different cars after that.
Different homes.
