He looked up.
“When Sylvie took me in, I didn’t trust her. I thought she’d give me back too. But she didn’t.”
He paused, his breath shaking.
His hands tightened into fists.
“She made me cocoa. She read to me. She left me notes. And paid attention to the food I loved. She let me exist in my own bubble, waiting at the edge for the moment it popped.”
He looked at me fully then, for the first time since we’d arrived at the courtroom.
“She never forced me to speak. Instead, she stayed. And she tried so hard to show me that she cared… and even… loved me.”
I saw the judge glance at me. His eyes were soft, but the weight of Alan’s words still hung in the air. My lips trembled.
He looked at me fully then.
I didn’t try to stop it. There was no point pretending this didn’t matter more than anything else ever had.
Alan looked down again. His fingers twisted the hem of his shirt, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t speak,” he said slowly, “because… I thought if I messed up — if I said the wrong thing, then Sylvie would change her mind. And someone would come and take me away again.”
I swallowed hard, tears pooling faster than I could blink them back.
His fingers twisted the hem of his shirt, his voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitated, then lifted his head.
“But I want her to adopt me. Not because I need someone. But because she’s already been my mom all this time.”
Estella let out a breath that sounded like a sob. I heard her reach for a tissue. Judge Brenner’s eyes crinkled into a smile, gentle and full of approval.
“Well then,” he said quietly, “I think we have our answer.”
Estella let out a breath that sounded like a sob.
Outside in the parking lot, the air felt warmer than it had that morning. I leaned against the car to adjust the strap of my shoe, but my hands shook so much I gave up halfway.
My son came around the other side, reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a folded tissue. He held it out without saying a word.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I said.
He held it out without saying a word.
