Downsize.
Start over in a smaller place.
None of that scared me as much as it should have.
We might have to sell the house.
Because now, at least, I knew.
I glanced over at Ava.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“Yeah.”
She paused, then added, “Are we still a family?”
I reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Always,” I said.
And I meant it.
“Are we still a family?”
***
That night, after Ava went to bed, I sat at the kitchen table with a notebook in front of me.
Numbers. Plans. Ideas.
Not perfect. Not finished.
But real.
Robert hadn’t come home yet.
I didn’t know when he would.
But I knew this much: He wasn’t a bad man; he just made some bad decisions.
Out of fear, pressure, and trying to carry something alone that should’ve been shared.
Robert hadn’t come home yet.
I realized we’d need help, maybe counseling.
But we weren’t done. Not even close.
I closed the notebook and leaned back in my chair.
The house felt different now.
Not broken.
Just… honest.
And for the first time all day, I felt like we might actually be able to fix something.
Together.
