The Drawing
One night, Ethan found Sophie sitting by the window, her knees tucked under her chin.
On her lap lay a drawing: three stick figures labeled “Daddy,” “Me,” and “Noah.” Clara wasn’t there.
“Can I hang this in the kitchen?” she asked quietly.
Ethan smiled through tears. “Of course, sweetheart. That’s our family now.”
The next morning, he framed it and hung it above the very spot where the milk had once spilled. A small symbol, but a powerful one—a promise that this house would never again be a place of fear.
That simple picture changed everything. Every time he passed it, Ethan reminded himself: This is what matters. Not contracts. Not profits. Them.
