I nodded, tears burning my eyes. “Yes. He had a name.”
“Did he know about me?”
“He knew I was pregnant.”
Leo swallowed. “Was he happy?”
The question broke something in me.
I pulled him into my arms. “Yes,” I whispered. “He was scared, but he was happy.”
My mother began crying openly then.
My father opened the door wider. “Come inside.”
For a moment, I could not move.
Ten years earlier, that same doorway had meant rejection. Now it stood open, but I did not know whether walking through it meant forgiveness, surrender, or simply the beginning of a truth none of us could escape.
Leo looked up at me.
“Are we going in?” he asked.
I took a breath. “Yes.”
The living room looked almost the same.
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