Chapter 9
Michael began therapy.
Not because I asked.
Because Dana told him no judge would trust a man who could not explain how his mother got so much control.
He went three times a week.
He also moved into a small apartment across town.
He sent groceries through Megan.
Diapers.
Formula.
Meals.
Never with notes asking forgiveness.
Only practical help.
That mattered.
But it did not erase the past.
Emily asked hard questions.
“Did Dad know Grandma was bad?”
“He knew she could be hurtful.”
“Why didn’t he stop her?”
I looked at Noah in my arms.
“Because he was used to obeying her.”
Emily frowned.
“That’s not a good reason.”
“No, sweetheart. It isn’t.”
“Do I have to see him?”
“No.”
“What if Noah wants to?”
“When Noah is old enough, we will listen to him too.”
Emily nodded.
She liked rules that protected people.
A month later, she agreed to see Michael in therapy.
He sat on the floor so he would not tower over her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She crossed her arms.
“You believed Grandma more than Mom.”
“I did.”
“You let her be mean.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t come when I called you from the hallway.”
His face crumpled.
“I thought you were upset because the baby came.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“I was scared.”
“I should have listened.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Then she stood and came back to me.
May you like
It was small.
It was enough for one day.
