“That penthouse was a prison,” he said, looking out the window at the children playing below. “This is a home.”

He signed the lease that afternoon using his remaining personal savings.

He bought a simple wooden table, four chairs, and a small sofa.

On Saturday, it was time for him to see Liam and Chloe.

I walked them down the sidewalk, their small hands tucked into my coat pockets.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” Chloe asked, her boots clicking on the concrete.

“We are going to see your father,” I said.

Liam stopped walking, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Is he going away again?”

“No,” I said, kneeling down to their height. “He lives here now. Just around the corner.”

We reached the brownstone building, and Jonathan was waiting by the front steps.

He wore a simple grey sweater and jeans, looking younger than I had seen him in years.

“Hi, guys,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

Chloe looked at him for a long moment, then took a step forward.

“Do you have toys?” she asked.