Not quickly.
Not dramatically.
Simply honestly.
“I’m sorry, Cyra.”
No excuses.
No blaming.
No explanations.
Just the words I had waited 18 years to hear.
The next morning, before Liam was even awake, I found Greg in the garage.
He was assembling a storage cart for Liam’s dorm room.
Boxes were stacked neatly around him, and a list of supplies lay beside a toolbox.
He looked up when he noticed me.
“I measured Liam’s desk online,” he said quietly. “I wanted to make sure this would fit underneath it.”
I didn’t know what to say.
It wasn’t a grand gesture.
But it was the first time in years that I had seen Greg thinking about Liam’s future instead of mourning the one he had imagined.
Whether our marriage would survive, I honestly didn’t know.
But one thing had finally changed.
The weight I had carried for nearly 20 years was no longer mine.
