He knelt beside Hannah.
The movement startled everyone nearby.
Alexander Bennett rarely lowered himself before anyone.
Now he was on his knees in the middle of a crowded hotel.
He reached toward his son, but Oliver instinctively stepped backward.
That tiny movement nearly destroyed him.
“Buddy,” Alexander whispered, “look at me.”
Oliver hesitated.
“Your mother loved you more than anything in this world.”
“Even when I cried?”
“Especially when you cried.”
“Even when I was bad?”
“You weren’t bad.”
Alexander swallowed hard.
“And she didn’t die because of your teddy bear. She died because another driver made a terrible mistake.”
Tears gathered in his eyes.
“I should have told you that a long time ago.”
Oliver studied him.
“Then why didn’t you?”
Alexander couldn’t answer immediately.
Because he had been afraid.
Because every mention of Elizabeth felt like reopening a wound he did not know how to survive.
Because working had been easier than grieving.
And because somewhere along the way, he had mistaken silence for strength.
Finally, he said the only honest thing he could.
“Because Daddy was hurting too, and I didn’t know how to talk about it.”
Oliver began crying again.
This time, Alexander opened his arms.
The boy fell into them.
“I thought you didn’t want me,” Oliver sobbed.
