“You need to leave.”

“I brought something for him.”

“What?”

She handed me the envelope.

Inside was a letter.

Eight pages.

I didn’t read it.

“I’ll tell him you brought it.”

Her eyes filled.

“Daniel, I know what I said.”

“Yes.”

“I hear it in my head every night.”

I said nothing.

She looked toward the house.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You said it.”

“I was angry.”

“At a bleeding sixteen-year-old?”

She looked down.

“No.”

“Then who were you angry at?”

She waited several seconds.

“You.”

That surprised me.

“Why?”

“Because you were going to call the police. Because I knew you wouldn’t protect Melissa.”

There it was.

Not confusion.

Not shock.

Not panic.

A belief.

Protecting Melissa was a duty.

I had broken that duty by choosing my son.

Mom wiped her eyes.

“I realize how insane that sounds now.”

I studied her.

For the first time, she wasn’t defending herself.

But regret didn’t restore trust automatically.

“I hope you mean that.”

“Can I see Evan?”

“No.”

Her face tightened.

“Not even for five minutes?”

“No.”

“When?”

“That’s his decision.”

She nodded slowly.

Then left.

That night, I told Evan she had come.

I gave him the unopened letter.

He stared at it.

“You didn’t read it?”

“No.”