Just us.
The waiter placed chocolate cake in front of me.
Daniel grinned.
“Are you really going to eat that?”
I stared at him.
He immediately raised both hands.
“Too soon?”
I laughed so hard the people at the next table looked over.
Then I took a bite.
“Absolutely.”
He became serious.
“I should’ve spoken up sooner.”
I looked at my son.
“Yes. You should have.”
He nodded.
No excuses.
No defensiveness.
That mattered.
I had spent a year believing silence was the price of keeping my son close.
I had been wrong.
Love that requires humiliation isn’t peace.
It is permission.
And I would never give anyone that permission again.
