I walked into my ex-husband’s Christmas dinner with the four children he’d abandoned before they were even born, and the second his eyes locked on his own faces staring back, every smug word he’d planned died in his throat.

Eleanor's funeral was held three days later.

It was a small service at the church she'd attended her whole life.

Family came from all over.

Friends.

Neighbors.

People whose lives she'd touched.

The children were quiet.

They wore their best clothes.

They held white roses.

Daniel spoke at the service.

He talked about his mother's kindness.

Her strength.

Her love for her family.

He didn't mention me or the children.

But he didn't need to.

Everyone knew.

Everyone had seen us at the hospital.

Everyone knew the truth about what he'd done.

After the service, we went to the cemetery.

The children placed their roses on her casket.

Noah whispered something that only he could hear.

I held them tight.

Later, at the reception, people came up to me.

To offer their condolences.

To tell me stories about Eleanor.

To say how sorry they were for everything Daniel had put me through.

Aunt Margaret hugged me tight.

"She loved you, you know. Like a daughter. And those children... they were the light of her life."

"I know. She was the light of ours too."

Daniel stayed in a corner by himself, drinking too much, talking to no one.

I watched him.

He looked broken.

But I also knew that broken people could be dangerous.

That grief could turn to anger.

That promises made at a deathbed could be easily forgotten.

I went over to him.

"Daniel."

He looked up, his eyes red and glassy.

"Kesha."

"Are you okay?"

He laughed bitterly.

"Does it look like I'm okay? My mother just died. And it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault. Her heart was failing. The doctors said—"

"Don't," he said, holding up a hand. "Don't pretend to care. You hate me. You've every right to hate me."

"I don't hate you. I pity you. You've spent your whole life running from pain, and all you've done is create more of it. For yourself. For me. For four innocent children."

He looked away.

"I meant what I said to her. I'll drop the custody case. I'll leave you alone."

"Good. That's what she wanted. And it's what's best for the children."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Can I... can I still see them? Sometimes? If they want to see me?"

I thought about it.

The children had asked about him.

Noah had said he felt bad for him.

They deserved to know their father, if he could be the kind of father they deserved.

But only if he could put their needs first.

Only if he could stop seeing them as weapons or prizes and start seeing them as people.

"Maybe," I said. "Someday. But not now. They need time to grieve. To heal. And you need time too. To figure out who you are without your mother here. To decide what kind of person you want to be."

He nodded slowly.

"I understand."

"I'm going to take the children back to Austin tomorrow. We'll send you updates. Pictures. If you want them."

"Thank you."

I turned to leave.

"Kesha?"

I stopped.

"I really am sorry. For everything."

"I know."

I walked away.

I didn't know if Daniel would keep his promise.

I didn't know if he'd truly change.