But I knew what he had done.
He had waited.
He had guarded my son’s grave through every season.
He had carried the rabbit to my home when I was finally ready to understand what it meant.
And he had led me to the truth.
I brought the letters and Ethan’s belongings home. For days, I arranged them carefully in his old bedroom.
I found a place for the rabbit on the shelf beside his photographs.
The toy was still dirty and worn, but I no longer wanted to repair it. Every tear and chewed thread was part of the path it had traveled back to me.
I also contacted the bank and began the process of recovering what Marlene had taken. It would not be simple, and it would not erase the years she had stolen from me.
But Ethan deserved honesty.
So did I.
Marlene called several times.
