His mother stayed in the kitchen.

Once the door closed behind us, I turned on him.

“You let your mother meet Mia.”

“I needed someone to talk to.”

“You had me.”

“I couldn’t talk to you about Mia without telling you about her.”

“Exactly.”

He looked exhausted.

I didn’t care anymore.

“When were you planning to tell me?”

“After the final IVF cycle.”

“But then I got pregnant.”

He nodded.

“And then the pregnancy was difficult.”

He said nothing.

“Then the twins were born.”

Silence.

“There was always going to be something, Ethan.”

“I was scared.”

“Of what?”

His eyes lifted to mine.

“Of what Mia would mean to you.”

I crossed my arms.

“Say the rest.”

He took a breath.

“I watched you go through five years of fertility treatments. I watched you blame yourself every time something failed.”

My throat tightened.

“Then Lauren called and told me I had an eight-year-old daughter who had been conceived without any of that.”

His eyes filled.

“I didn’t know how to hand that truth to you.”

“So you decided I couldn’t handle it.”

“I thought you might look at Mia and see everything you had gone through.”

Maybe he expected me to deny it.

I didn’t.

“Maybe I would have.”

He stared at me.

“Maybe seeing her would have hurt. Maybe I would’ve felt jealous and then hated myself for being jealous. Maybe I would’ve needed time.”

“Annika…”

“But those feelings would have been mine to deal with.”

I stepped closer.

“You didn’t trust me with the ugliest version of myself.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“No.”

My voice was quieter than I expected.

“We are done calling it that.”

He looked at me.

“You weren’t protecting me from pain. You were protecting yourself from having to watch me experience it.”

Ethan slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry.”

I believed him.

But believing his apology didn’t erase eighteen months.

For the first time since finding Mia’s drawing, I stopped asking questions.

Information had always made fear feel smaller.

But now I had enough information.

The next move wasn’t Ethan’s.

It was mine.

Three days later, I called Lauren.

“I’d like to meet Mia.”

There was a pause.

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

I took a breath.