Once the door closed behind them, the silence returned, heavier this time.

Daniel stood up and walked to the window.

He stared out at the wet streets, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“I have spent five years running,” he said.

He did not turn around to look at me.

“When Sarah died, I did not know how to be a father.”

“I only knew how to be a businessman.”

“So I went to the office.”

“I stayed there until the boys were asleep, and I left before they woke up.”

He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

“I thought if I made enough money, if I secured their future, it would make up for her being gone.”

“But I was just coward.”

“I was running away from the quiet in the house.”

I watched his shoulders rise and fall with his breath.

“You were grieving, Daniel,” I said softly.

“That is no excuse,” he said.

“You were there.”

“You stayed.”

“You cared for them when I couldn’t bear to look at them because they had her eyes.”