Chapter 7
After the trial, normal life returned in pieces.
Soccer practice.
Homework.
Dentist appointments.
Forgotten lunchboxes.
Laura’s apartment became warmer.
Less like an emergency landing.
More like a home.
She painted Ethan’s room green.
I built the bookshelf.
We argued over instructions.
Ethan laughed at us.
That sound felt like progress.
I dated no one.
Laura dated no one.
People asked.
Nosy people always do.
But we were busy rebuilding trust around a child.
That was enough.
One Saturday, Ethan had a soccer game.
I came early.
Laura came with orange slices.
We sat beside each other on folding chairs.
Not touching.
Not tense.
Just there.
Ethan scored one goal and immediately looked to see if we both saw it.
We did.
We stood and shouted his name together.
“Ethan Carter!”
He grinned so hard he forgot to run back on defense.
After the game, he said, “I like when you both yell the same name.”
May you like
Laura’s eyes filled.
“So do I,” she whispered.
