He nodded through his tears. “I see that now.”
They didn’t ask for forgiveness that day. And I didn’t offer it.
But when they left, there were no demands—only quiet humility.
His mother hugged our daughter. His father shook Ethan’s hand.
“Thank you,” he said. “For letting us see her.”
As for what comes next, I don’t know. Maybe we’ll rebuild something. Maybe not.
But for the first time in five years, they understood something simple:
We were never lacking.
They were just measuring the wrong things.
