“Yes,” she said. “They are.”
He leaned closer to the screen.
“Hi, girls. It’s… it’s Dad.”
The word felt undeserved.
Emily did not correct him.
For ten minutes, he watched his daughters breathe.
That was all.
No dramatic reunion. No forgiveness. No promise.
Just three small lives moving gently beneath blankets while their mother held the camera steady.
When the call ended, Mark remained seated long after the screen went dark.
Three days later, Peter Ellison called.
“Mark, your wife’s attorney reached out.”
Mark stood from his desk.
“She has an attorney?”
“Yes. She is proposing temporary arrangements.”
“What kind?”
“Medical updates continue. Supervised virtual visits twice weekly. No in-person visits until the pediatric team clears travel and exposure risks. Marriage counseling may be discussed separately, but she is not committing to reconciliation.”
Mark closed his eyes.
It was less than he wanted.
More than he deserved.
