For the next five nights, Brian behaved almost perfectly.
Too perfectly.
He stayed mostly in the garage with the door halfway open like he wanted everyone to notice how quiet and harmless he was being.
On the second evening, Tyra wandered into the kitchen while I packed lunches.
“Is Dad moving back?” she asked casually.
My stomach tightened instantly.
“No, sweetheart. Why would you think that?”
She shrugged, but her eyes looked uncertain. “Dad told Micah he’d sleep anywhere just to stay close to us.”
I found Brian in the garage ten minutes later with Micah sitting beside him on the couch.
“Daddy would always stay near you if he could,” Brian was saying softly. “I love you and your sister more than anything.”
I knocked once against the open garage frame.
“Micah, go upstairs and pick tomorrow’s clothes.”
Once he left, I stepped closer.
“Don’t do that.”
Brian leaned back lazily. “Do what?”
“Don’t make the kids feel like you’re some tragic father being kept away.”
He laughed quietly. “I’m not allowed to miss my children now?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“You always loved controlling the narrative, Laura.”
I folded my arms. “You’re sleeping here because I didn’t want you stranded. Don’t make me regret it.”
He looked away.
“Fine.”
But Brian had always treated the word fine like a temporary pause.
On the fifth morning, he packed before the kids woke up.
Alan shook his hand in the driveway.
“Take care of yourself,” Alan told him kindly.
Brian nodded and left.
I didn’t say goodbye.