Hailee’s POV
My heart hurt. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to pile all three boys in the car and keep them close, where I could see them and spend time with them. But I had to be fair. I had to be wise. I had to do the thing that was right, not just the thing that felt good.
I shook my head. "No, baby," I said, and my voice was calm even though I felt anything but. "Not this time."
His mouth turned down a little. "Why?"
"Because this visit is for Oscar," I said. I touched his cheek with my fingers. His skin was warm and soft, like sunshine on bread. "His grandma asked for him. His dad is hurt and wants to see him. This is his turn."
Ozzy’s lips pressed together. "But I can be quiet," he said. "I can sit still. I can be good."
"I know you can," I said. "You are good. You are the bravest. You are the kindest. I am proud of you every day." I took a breath. "But today is not about being good. It’s about being fair. We will be back in three days. And then we will have your turn. I promise."
He looked into my eyes for a long second, like he was trying to see if I really meant it. Then he nodded once. "Okay," he whispered.
The word was small and heavy. It made me feel worse. I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tight. He hugged me back even tighter, like he could hold me in place with his little arms if he tried hard enough. I kissed his hair.
I looked at Oliver next. He stood near the window, hands in his pockets, eyes on his shoes. He was trying to be brave too. Trying to be older than he should be. Trying not to ask for anything.
"Can you be okay for me?"
His mouth tipped up a little. "Okay," he said. "I can do that."
"I know you can." I touched his shoulder, then turned to Oscar.
He stood very still by the bed, as if moving might break the moment. His eyes were bright and shiny, and his fingers twisted the edge of his shirt. He was trying to look calm, but I could see the storm inside him. He took a breath like he was afraid to even breathe wrong. He did not say it out loud, but I heard it anyway: Please do not change your mind.
"Go get ready," I told him gently. "We leave after breakfast. Pack your toothbrush and a sweater. Pack the book you are reading."
His whole face lit up. "Yes, Mom," he said, and the words tumbled out like they could not wait. He ran for his small bag and began to gather things with careful hands.
I turned away so they would not see the look on my face. I blinked hard and pulled my shoulders back. I had to move. If I stopped, if I let myself sink, I would not be able to stand up again.
I went to my room and dressed quickly. Simple black pants. A soft gray sweater. My favorite boots. I put on a long dark coat that would keep out the morning cold. I braided my hair tight so the wind would not pull it loose. I packed fast: a change of clothes, a comb, a small tin of ointment, extra bandages in case the healer needed more hands, a bottle of water, a few snacks for Oscar, a small pouch of coins, my papers, my phone charger. I checked the bag twice, then zipped it closed.



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