The next morning, he decided not to watch her through lenses and screens.
He watched her with his own eyes.
He noticed how she prepared Samuel’s breakfast exactly the way he liked it—cut just right, warmed but never too hot. How she folded his clothes neatly and placed them in order without being asked. How she spoke to Samuel about his father—not with fear, not with resentment, but with quiet respect.
“He’s working hard,” she told the boy gently when Ethan came home late. “He loves you. He just doesn’t always know how to show it.”
Those words stayed with him.
Later that afternoon, Laura took Samuel outside to the backyard. Ethan observed them through the window. Samuel ran ahead, laughing. Laura followed more slowly.
She thought she was alone.
Ethan saw her pause, press her fingers briefly to her eyes, and wipe away a tear before forcing a small smile and calling Samuel back.
Something inside Ethan shifted.
That evening, after Samuel had fallen asleep, Ethan asked Laura to come into the study. His voice wasn’t sharp. It was exhausted.
“Laura, we need to talk,” he said.
She froze for a moment, then nodded and stepped inside.