“He doesn’t know you yet.”
Callum became silent.
That truth hurt him.
It should have.
He sat with Miles instead of handing him back.
Ten minutes later, the crying eased.
One week after that, Callum’s mother called.
“I heard he returned early.”
“He did.”
“Is everything fixed?”
“No.”
I saw Callum listening from the kitchen.
“But he is finally doing the work.”
This time, I did not soften the truth to protect him.
Dean and Oliver organized a meal rotation with their wives.
I accepted the food.
When someone offered to hold a baby, I slept instead of cleaning.
One morning, Callum found the old fatherhood shirt folded on the bed.
“Are you giving this back?”
“No.”
He frowned.
“You wanted the title.”
I pointed toward the words printed across the fabric.
