Then I told him about our son—how he learned to ride a bike, how he asked if his father would be proud. The silence between us said everything words could not. When John asked if he could see our son, I answered honestly: that choice no longer belonged to me.
It belonged to the child who had learned how to live without him. I walked out to my new car, started the engine, and felt something unexpected—peace. Not triumph or anger, just clarity.
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