Page 115 of The Silence Between

“Leo.”

I opened my eyes to find Ethan standing before me, his expression a careful mix of joy and concern. He looked tired, shadows under his eyes suggesting he wasn't sleeping much better than I was despite being on the outside.

“Hey,” I said, the word inadequate but all I could manage.

He sat beside me, close but not touching, respecting the invisible boundary that seemed to exist between us now. Not rejection, just uncertainty about new parameters.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Better, I think. More stable at least.” I studied his face, searching for signs of the burden I'd placed on him. “How are the kids?”

“They're good. Adjusting. They miss you.”

“And you? How are you handling all this?”

He hesitated, and I could see him considering whether to give me the reassuring answer or the honest one. “It's been challenging. But worth it.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the space between us filled with unspoken words.

“Thank you for finding me,” I said finally, the words I'd been holding since waking up in the hospital finally finding voice. “I don't remember much from the bridge, but I remember your voice. Your hand reaching for mine.”

He swallowed hard, emotion flickering across his face. “I almost didn't get there in time.”

“But you did.”

“I should have answered your calls. I should have been there sooner-“

“Ethan.” I cut him off gently. “You can't be available every second of every day. That was the whole problem with me, remember? Trying to be superhuman?”

A small smile touched his lips. “The doctors have been teaching you things.”

“A few.” I looked down at my hands, then back at him. “I'm sorry you had to see that. Me at my worst.”

“Don't apologize.” His voice was firm. “And that wasn't you at your worst, Leo. That was you after being pushed beyond any reasonable human limits.”

The distinction felt important somehow, a reframing that placed the breaking point outside myself rather than as some internal failing.

“How's the custody situation?” I asked, changing the subject to something slightly less raw.

“Under control for now. Damien got the emergency hearing thrown out due to procedural violations. Miguel's been quiet since... everything. Townsend seems to have backed off, at least temporarily.”

I nodded, relief washing through me. “And work? The bookstore? Gloria?”

“Gloria is recovering. Eleanor has the bookstore handled. She told me to tell you your job will be waiting whenever you're ready to come back, no rush.”

Another weight lifted. We continued like this for a while, Ethan updating me on all the practical aspects of my life that had once seemed so overwhelming. The rent paid. The utilities current. Diego's school accommodations in progress. Sophie's art class tuition covered by an unexpected scholarship Eleanor had discovered.

“What happens when I get out of here?” I asked finally, the question that had been hovering at the edges of my mind for days.

Ethan looked at me steadily. “Whatever you need to happen. One day at a time, remember?”

“That's not very specific,” I said, a small attempt at humor.

“Because there isn't a specific plan yet. Just a general one—you continue healing, we continue supporting you and the kids, and we figure out the details as we go.” He hesitated, then added, “Unless you'd prefer I step back once you're home?”

The question carried no pressure, just genuine willingness to respect whatever boundaries I needed. I considered it seriously, weighing the comfort of independence against the proven dangers of isolation.

“No,” I said finally. “I wouldn't prefer that.”

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