She looked at him.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
They sat across from each other.
There was affection in the room.
And grief.
But also something calmer.
They had both done months of therapy.
They had begun building identities outside the marriage they had lost.
Natalie eventually said:
“I don’t hate you.”
Aaron nodded.
“I never thought you did.”
“I hated the truth.”
“So did I.”
PART 41 — THE FAMILY PHOTO
That Christmas, we took a family photograph.
Natalie stood beside me.
Christopher stood behind Helen.
Aaron stood at the other end.
Nobody forced closeness.
Nobody pretended history had become simple.
But he was there.
My son.
Alive.
PART 42 — THE NEXT SUMMER
The following summer, Christopher invited everyone to his lake house.
There was a dock.
A grill.
A small swimming area.
I brought the bright blue swimsuit.
For a moment, I stood inside the guest room holding my cover-up.
Then I remembered Natalie’s backyard.
