We didn’t get a neat ending; we got a hard, human one. In that cramped law office and later under the oak tree, we discovered that Thomas’s greatest secret wasn’t betrayal, but sacrifice carried in silence. He had buried his own grief—his lost sister, her children, his fear of being misunderstood—just to give us a home that felt unquestioned and permanent.

Standing again at his grave under a clear sky, the anger that had once driven Susan away dissolved into something quieter and heavier: remorse, yes, but also awe. The small lantern we left by his headstone wasn’t just a symbol for him; it was a promise between us. We would keep the light he’d tended burning—messy, imperfect, but steadfast. Not because we shared his blood, but because he chose us, and we now chose each oth