At a crowded birthday reception, the lid of a large traveling trunk suddenly moved from inside.
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Chapter 12 / 17
Chapter 12
Celia did not move back into my house.
I expected that.
A small part of me still hoped.
She had changed.
So had I.
We once loved each other fiercely.
That did not mean four stolen years could be ignored by restarting the clock.
She rented a house twenty minutes away.
I offered to buy it.
She said no.
Then accepted security improvements only after choosing them herself.
Good.
We co-parented badly at first.
I overcompensated.
Too many gifts.
Too many permissions.
Celia called me out.
“You don’t have to buy back four years.”
“I know.”
“You’re trying.”
“I know.”
“Stop.”
Hard.
Necessary.
So I learned ordinary fatherhood.
Say no.
Brush teeth.
Bedtime.
Vegetables.
Do not let guilt turn into indulgence.
May you like
Elias deserved a father.
Not an apology machine.
