He barely looked at her. In the dim light, she memorized that expression forever—not grief, not guilt, just the look of someone who had already made his decision.
“Grandma Evelyn will be here in the morning,” he said quietly. “She’ll take care of you.”
Emily stood frozen, trying to understand how someone could say something like that and still walk away.
The door closed.
The silence that followed felt endless.
Evelyn arrived early the next morning, carrying a suitcase and grocery bags, pushing aside her anger because there were more urgent things to do. She held Emily until the trembling stopped. She picked up Noah, who clung to her without understanding, and soothed him until he fell asleep against her shoulder.
She was sixty-two, living alone in Dallas. She had buried her daughter just months earlier—and now, in her own way, she had lost her son-in-law too. But in front of her were two children who still needed a home. And Evelyn was not the kind of woman who let children fall without catching them.