POV: Jasmine
I pushed the door open with my shoulder, the bag still in my hand, and stepped into the apartment. The lights were warm, the room settled into the evening, and Liam was on the floor in the middle of it, one knee bent, the other stretched out, letting Aurora climb over him.
He looked up when I came in, but he didn’t stand, didn’t break the moment with her. His eyes moved over my face once, quick and precise, and I felt the shift in him even before he said anything.
I set the bag on the table without taking my coat off.
Aurora saw me then, her entire body changing direction at once, small feet pushing off the rug as she ran toward me.
“Mommy!”
I bent and lifted her before she reached me fully, pulling her up into my arms and holding her tighter than I usually did. She wrapped her arms around my neck without hesitation, her cheek pressing against mine, and I closed my eyes for a second longer than necessary, breathing her in.
“I’ve got you,” I said quietly, though she hadn’t asked.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, small hands on my face as if checking something, then leaned into me again, satisfied with whatever she found.
Liam was on his feet now, slower, watching us both.
“What happened,” he said, not as a question but as an acknowledgment.
“Later,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Let me just—”
Aurora shifted in my arms, her energy already fading, the day catching up with her. She rested her head against my shoulder, her fingers still curled in my hair, and within minutes her breathing had evened out, the weight of her going soft and heavy.
Liam stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against her back.
“She’s out,” he said quietly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice just yet.
He slid his arms under her with practiced ease, lifting her from me without waking her, her head dropping against his shoulder. I let her go, my hands lingering for a second before falling back to my sides.
“I’ll put her down,” he said.
I nodded again, watching them go down the hallway until they disappeared into her room, the apartment falling quieter in their absence.
I turned back to the table.
The bag was where I had left it, unchanged, but it felt different here, out of that car. I stood there for a moment without moving, then reached for it and opened it again, slower this time.
Liam came back a minute later, his steps quiet, the door to Aurora’s room closing softly behind him. He didn’t speak when he saw me at the table, didn’t ask again what had happened. He just walked over and stopped across from me, giving me the space to begin.
I took out the photographs first.
“It’s us,” I said, setting one down in front of him.
He picked it up, his eyes moving over it without rushing, taking in the details. I placed another beside it, then another, the small stack spreading between us.
“From when we were kids,” I added. “Different ages. Always separate.”
He glanced up at me briefly, then back down at the photos, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
“Who took them?” He asked.
“Our father,” I said, the word landing differently now. “From a distance. Leo said it out loud in the car, but it was obvious before that.”
I reached into the bag again and took out the watch, placing it carefully on the table between us.
“This was in there too. It still works.”
Liam looked at it, then back at me, waiting.
“And the letter,” I said, my fingers already closing around it. “It’s unfinished. He started it the week before he died.”
I unfolded it, not to read it again but to hold it, the paper softer now from being handled.
“There was a man,” I said, lifting my eyes to Liam. “Ronnie. He knew him in the last years. He was there when he died. He kept this for him. Didn’t bring it to us until now.”
Liam didn’t interrupt. He didn’t move closer yet either, just stayed where he was, steady, giving me the space to put it down in my own way.
“Ronnie’s old, he’s sick, he’s alone. He said if we could help him, he’d be grateful. If not, the package was ours anyway.” I exhaled, the memory of it sitting heavy in my chest. “Leo wrote him a check. He didn’t hesitate. Neither did I.”
Liam nodded once, slow, like that part made complete sense.
I looked down at the photographs again, at the version of myself I didn’t remember but still recognized.
“He kept them,” I said, quieter now. “All this time. That’s what he chose to hold onto.”
Liam stayed silent. That was the moment it broke.
I felt it rise before I could stop it, my chest tightening, my breath catching as the first tear fell before I had even registered that I was crying.
“I never…” My voice gave out, and I had to start again, my hand pressing flat against the table to keep myself steady. “I never cried for him. Not once. There was nothing to cry for.”
Liam moved then, not toward the table but down, lowering himself to the floor beside me.
“This isn’t about what he did,” I said, my voice breaking properly now, the restraint gone. “It’s not about any of that. It’s just—”
I stopped, shaking my head, because there wasn’t a clean way to say it.
“He kept us,” I managed finally, the words coming out uneven. “That’s what he had. That’s what he chose to keep until the end.”
Liam reached for me then, his hands steady as they found mine, pulling me down with him until I was sitting on the floor, the edge of the table at my back. He didn’t speak. He didn’t try to explain it or make it easier.
He just pulled me into him.
I leaned into his chest, my face pressed against his shoulder, and the crying came fully then. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close without tightening, without trying to contain it.
He stayed like that. Long enough that the crying slowed on its own, turning into something quieter, something that didn’t need to be pushed away.
He didn’t say anything the entire time. He just held me, then my phone rang on the table.
Liam shifted slightly, one hand still on my back as I reached up and grabbed it without looking at the screen.
“Hello,” I said, my voice rough but steady enough.
“Ms. Harlow,” a calm, professional voice answered. “This is Dr. Keller from the hospital. I’m calling about Asher.”
Everything in me stilled.
“Yes,” I said.
There was a brief pause, not long enough to alarm, just long enough to prepare.
“We’re seeing a stronger response to the treatment than we initially expected,” he said. “His numbers are stabilizing faster, and if this trajectory holds, we’re looking at discharge sooner than planned.”