you for showing me.
Slowly, something shifted.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Maybe never completely.
But honesty replaced fantasy.
The children no longer wondered who their father was.
They knew.
He was a flawed man who had failed them terribly.
He was also trying, twelve years too late, to become someone better.
Whether that effort would someday earn him a place in their hearts was up to them.
PART TEN — THE QUESTION ADAM FINALLY ASKED ME
About nine months after the school concert, Adam and I were both waiting outside the counselor’s office.
The children were inside for a sibling session.
We sat on opposite ends of the hallway.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then Adam said, “Can I ask you something?”
I looked over.
“Depends.”
He nodded.
“Did you ever hate me?”
I thought about it.
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“For a long time?”
“Yes.”
He nodded
