Emily barely spoke during dinner. I cooked a proper meal—warm soup, fresh salmon, and rice.
When I set the plate in front of her, she hesitated.
“You can eat,” I said gently.
She looked at me, uncertain. “Really?”
I nodded.
She picked up her spoon slowly.
After the first bite, her eyes filled with tears again.
“It’s… really good.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.”
The baby started crying from the bedroom. She quickly stood. “I’ll get him.”
I followed her.
I watched as she held our son, rocking him gently under the soft glow of the lamp. Her face still looked tired—but for the first time in weeks…
She looked peaceful.
I stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Emily…”
She looked up.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not seeing it sooner.”
She shook her head softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I looked into her eyes. “From now on… no one will ever let you go hungry again.”
She gave a faint smile.
“Not even me,” I added.
She let out a small laugh.
The baby soon drifted back to sleep. The three of us stood there in quiet.
Then she whispered something I’ll never forget.
“Today… for the first time since our son was born…”
She paused.
“I finally feel like we’re home.”
I pulled her into a gentle embrace.