“Are you coming back in the morning?” he whispered.

My chest tightened. “Always, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

William rolled toward me, clutching his stuffed bear, and for the first time, he reached for my hand.

But Joshua started drifting.

At first, it was subtle. He came home later than usual.

“Tough day at work, Hanna,” he’d say, avoiding my eyes.

He’d eat with us, smile at the boys, then disappear into his office before dessert. I found myself cleaning up alone, wiping sticky fingerprints off the fridge, listening to the low murmur of his phone calls behind a closed door.

When Matthew spilled juice and William dissolved into tears, I was the one kneeling on the kitchen floor, whispering, “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got you.”

Joshua was gone—“work emergency,” he’d say—or absorbed in the blue glow of his laptop.

One night, after another long evening and too many peas scattered under the table, I finally asked, “Josh, are you okay?”

He barely looked up. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Are you… happy?”

He shut the laptop a little too hard. “Hanna, you know I am. We wanted this, right?”

I nodded, but something inside me twisted.

Then one afternoon, the boys napped at the same time. I crept down the hall, desperate for a moment to breathe. As I passed Joshua’s office, I heard his voice—low, strained.

“I can’t keep lying to her. She thinks I wanted a family with her…”

My hand flew to my mouth.

I moved closer, heart pounding.

“But I didn’t adopt the boys because of this,” he said, his voice breaking.

Silence. Then a rough sob.

“I can’t do this, Dr. Samson. I can’t watch her figure it out after I’m gone. She deserves more than that. But if I tell her… she’ll fall apart. She gave up her whole life for this. I just… I just wanted to know she wouldn’t be alone.”

My legs went weak.

Joshua was crying. “How long did you say, Doc?”

A pause.

“A year? That’s all I have left?”

The silence stretched, then he broke down again.

I stumbled back, gripping the banister, trying to breathe.

He had known.

He had let me quit my job, build a life, become a mother—knowing he might not be there to stay in it.

He didn’t trust me to face the truth with him. He decided for me.