“I’m sorry.”
It was the first apology he’d offered.
It was also six years too late.
I opened the door.
He looked at me one last time.
“I never thought he’d come back.”
“I did,” I said. “I just wish I hadn’t had to wait this long.”
Marcus lowered his head and walked out.
I closed the door behind him. Only then did I notice the bread rolls still scattered across the floor.
Neither of us had remembered to pick them up.
For the first time in years, it felt peaceful.
I turned toward Andrew. He was still standing exactly where he’d been when he first came in. Almost as though he wasn’t sure he belonged there.
I crossed the room slowly.
This time, I didn’t rush.
I stopped in front of him.
“May I hug you?”
He smiled through his tears.
“You never had to ask.”
I wrapped my arms around my son.
He hugged me back just as tightly.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered.
“I should have protected you.”
He rested his forehead against mine.
“I know.”
“No.”
Fresh tears filled my eyes.
“I need you to hear this.”
I took a deep breath.
“I failed you.”
He gently shook his head.
“You were lied to.”
“I still should have seen it.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he smiled.
“We both believed someone who didn’t deserve our trust.”
I nodded.
“That won’t happen again.”
He looked around the living room.
“It feels different.”
“It is.”
I reached for his hand.
“This has always been your home.”
His eyes filled with tears again.
“I wasn’t sure.”
I squeezed his hand.
“You never lost your home.”
He smiled.
“I know.”
It wasn’t home that we’d lost. It was six years. But at last, we had each other again.
