Page 34 of Absolution

But to me, it feels like something more. A sign. Like the world is whispering,you can go home now.

Not because I’m ready. I don’t know if I ever will be. But because there’s nothing left to run from. The silence here has done its job. It held me, stripped me down, let me fall apart in peace.

And now, even if I’m still broken, I think I’m ready to go back.

Not for appearances. For my family. For my husband, that held the fort while I grieved and for the three little people who don’tcare what kind of mother I’m supposed to be. They just want me to come home.

So, I do.

Cory offers to drive me, and I say yes. I don’t have a car. I left without it. It’s probably still parked in front of our house, gathering dust. I didn’t bring my phone either. No wallet. No charger. No goodbye. Just walked out the door and kept going.

I wear the same baggy jeans I showed up in, and one of Cory’s soft, oversized shirts I’ve been living in for weeks. No makeup. I pack what little I have. The quilt. The photo frame. The scrapbooks with the kids’ names on them.

That’s all.

The ride is quiet. Cory doesn’t try to fill it. Just turns the radio low and glances at me sometimes like he’s checking for signs of life.

When he pulls into the driveway, I pause.

“You want me to come in?” he asks gently.

I shake my head. “I need to do this part alone.”

He nods, doesn’t argue. Just rests a hand on my shoulder for a beat before I step out.

The porch light is on. The curtains are drawn. There are shoes by the door, tiny sneakers, rain boots, one of Kyle’s work shoes.

Since I don’t have my keys, I knock softly.

I hear soft footsteps. Then a pause. When I glance toward the window, the curtain shifts, and a face appears in the window. When Iris spots me, her eyes go wide, then narrow slightly, like she’s making sure it’s not a trick.

“Mom?” she calls through the glass. “Guys, it’s Mom!”

There’s a scramble inside, thuds, hurried voices, someone arguing over who gets to open the door. Then the lock clicks, and the door swings open.

I barely have time to breathe before Iris throws her arms around my waist. She clings to me, solid and real and taller than I remember.

“Where were you?” she asks, her voice muffled in my coat.

Jemma hovers in the doorway. “Are you... are you back?” she says, like she’s testing the words.

“I’m back,” I manage to say.

Jemma doesn’t jump into my arms like she used to. She wraps them around my middle, her head pressing into my side.

Levi comes out last, slower than the girls. He doesn’t say anything, just stands in front of me for a moment, then hugs me tight, his cheek resting on my chest.

I lower myself to the ground, pulling all three of them in. Their limbs are longer now. Their weight more solid. Not so little anymore.

But still mine. Always mine.

That’s when I hear him.

Kyle.

He steps into view, half-shadowed, arms crossed. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe he hasn’t.

“Hey,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.

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