“They’re not forgetting their mother. They’re surviving her absence.”
Silence.
Then Ethan spoke.
“I don’t forget Mom,” he said quietly. “I just don’t want to be sad all the time.”
Lily nodded, tears slipping down her face. “It hurts too much.”
Diana’s breath caught.
For the first time, she looked shaken.
Richard stood. “This ends now,” he said firmly. “Marian stays. And we do what’s best for the children.”
Diana stared at him. “You’re choosing her?”
“I’m choosing them.”
That night, Diana packed her bags.
Before leaving, she paused at the doorway to the playroom. Lily was coloring. Ethan was building something uneven and proud.
Diana’s voice softened. “I loved your mother very much.”
“So did we,” Lily said.
Diana nodded once. Then she left.
Weeks passed.
The house changed—not suddenly, but truly.
Richard began eating dinner with them. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes awkwardly. But he stayed.
One evening, as Marian prepared to leave the table, Richard spoke.
“Stay,” he said. “Please.”
They sat. The twins laughed over something small and unimportant.
Richard watched them, his eyes wet.
“I forgot how to be here,” he admitted.
Marian smiled gently. “You’re learning.”