When her first marriage ended, I slept on her couch for a week.
When Noah was born, I stayed nearly every night for a month.
My instinct had always been the same.
Fix it.
Comfort her.
Absorb the pain.
But standing behind that gate, I finally understood that shielding a grown child from consequences can become another form of harm.
“You knew enough to know I was paying bills I could barely afford.”
She wiped her face.
“I kept telling myself it was temporary.”
“For four years?”
“I didn’t want to lose the house.”
“Then you were willing to let me lose everything instead.”
She lowered her head.
Grant threw both hands up.
“Can we stop turning this into a morality play? We have immediate problems.”
I looked at him.
