“We can try. But it isn’t covered by insurance.”
I looked at the boys—four years old, clutching crayons.
“I have my severance money,” I said. “Put his name on the list.”
The next evening, I returned home with the boys.
Joshua sat at the kitchen table, eyes red, coffee untouched.
“Hanna…”
“You let me quit my job,” I said. “You let me fall in love with those boys. You let me believe this was our dream.”
His face crumpled. “I wanted you to have a family.”
“No,” I said, my voice shaking. “You wanted to control what happened to me after you were gone.”
He covered his face. “I thought I was protecting you… but I was really protecting myself.”
That truth hit hard.
