I raised him to be taken care of, not to carry your family’s burdens.”

The words hung in the narrow room, heavy and toxic, settling over the examination table and the plastic crib where June’s diaper bag sat open.

Ethan stood entirely motionless for two seconds, his posture slouched like a boy caught stealing from a pantry.

Then, slowly, his shoulders straightened.

He lifted his head, his face pale and drained of color, but his dark eyes fixed directly on his mother’s face with a sudden, rigid focus.

He stepped out from beside my chair and walked straight across the linoleum, placing his body directly in front of the exit door.