Leo squealed.
Then I noticed someone across the street.
Dominic.
He stood beside a taxi.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
He had come for his scheduled afternoon with Leo.
The arrangement had gradually become civil.
Not warm.
Not friendly.
But civil.
He crossed toward us.
Dad nodded once.
“Dominic.”
“General.”
Dad handed Leo the stuffed lion.
Then walked toward the vehicle, giving us space.
Dominic looked at the hospital entrance.
“Is this where the fundraiser was?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I heard about the transportation program.”
I said nothing.
Then he looked at me.
“Was that because of what happened?”
“Partly.”
He swallowed.
“Audrey…”
I waited.
“I’ve wanted to tell you something.”
My body didn’t tense anymore when he spoke.
That was how I knew I had healed.
He looked toward the hospital doors.
“I used to tell myself you overreacted.”
I stayed quiet.
“I told myself it was one bad afternoon.”
His voice became rough.
“But every time I explain it out loud, it sounds worse.”
“It was worse.”
“I know.”
That word surprised me.
He looked at Leo.
“I was cruel to you.”
No excuse.
No Victoria.
No investors.
No hormones.
Just the truth.
“I’m sorry.”
For a moment, I felt the old ache.
Not because I wanted him back.
Because this was the apology I had once desperately needed.
Now I didn’t need it anymore.
“Thank you,” I said.
Dominic nodded.
Then he reached for Leo.
Our son immediately grabbed his tie.
Dominic laughed softly.
I handed him the diaper bag.
Everything Leo needed was inside.
Bottles.
Snacks.
Extra clothes.
Medication instructions.
And attached to the front pocket was a small envelope.
Dominic noticed it.
