“Eat.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He froze.
Then he winced. “Sorry. That sounded terrible.”
A tired smile reached her face.
“A little.”
“Would you like pizza?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent recovery.”
They both laughed.
It was the first gentle sound the kitchen had held all day.
After Noah went to bed and Lily finally settled, Ethan found Olivia sitting on the nursery floor with her back against the crib.
He sat beside her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Ethan said, “I failed you.”
Olivia shook her head automatically.
“Do not do that,” he said.
She looked at him.
“Do not protect me from knowing what happened. I promised you that you would not carry everything alone, and then I built a schedule where you had to.”
Olivia stared at the carpet.
“You were working for us.”
“I was working. You were surviving. Those are not the same thing.”
Her eyes filled again.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes,” he said. “And I should have made it possible to tell me without you thinking you were adding to my burden.”
That distinction broke something open between them.
Olivia told him everything.
Not only Eleanor’s insults. The nights Lily cried for hours. Noah’s sudden fear of sleeping alone after Ethan’s last trip. The leaking faucet she had not called anyone about because repair workers meant rearranging nap schedules. The birthday invitations she wrote at two in the morning. The way Eleanor would arrive, inspect the house, and turn every unfinished task into evidence that Olivia was ungrateful for her life.
Ethan listened.
He did not interrupt with solutions.
