His phone felt cold in his hand as he dialed his mother’s number. It rang twice before she answered. Laughter and music floated behind her voice.
“Miles. I heard you came back. Your sister told me.”
“They are dying,” he said. His voice cracked. “Tessa. Cal. They were starving. Alone.”
Silence. Then a sigh.
“You made your choices,” she murmured. “Sometimes you do not get to expect forgiveness.”
He stared at the white tile floor. Rage and sorrow interlocked like barbed wire. Without a word, he hung up. The phone clattered to the ground.
He turned to Janet. His voice sounded raw. “I thought money would fix everything. I thought it would make me worthy.”
Janet squeezed his shoulder gently. “Worthiness is not something you buy. It is something you choose every day. In the small moments.”
Through the window of the neonatal unit, Miles watched Cal resting in an incubator. Tiny tubes trailed from his nose. His chest rose and fell with fragile determination. Across the hall, Tessa slept under blankets, her skin pale but calmer now. IV lines kept time with her heartbeat.