I placed our daughter in his arms.
Eight months earlier, I had believed freedom meant vanishing before Adrian could find me.
Now I understood something different.
Freedom was being able to stand in front of him without fear, knowing I could stay or leave because the choice was finally mine.
Adrian looked down at his daughter, then back at me.
There were still questions between us.
There was still history.
But there was no folder on the table, no unsigned line waiting to decide our future, and no secret child hidden beneath my coat.
For the first time, nothing stood between us except the truth.
And this time, neither of us ran from it.
