It felt like losing him twice. We buried him under his real name in a quiet cemetery near home. There was no body. Only a marker.

Daniel Hayes. Husband. Father. Protector. Flawed man who loved fiercely.

Ethan chose the last line. I let him.

At the graveside, Sophie set the old phone beside the flowers for a moment. “I remembered eventually,” she whispered. Noah put an arm around her. “That was enough.”

Ethan stared at the stone a long time, then said, “Dad saved us and broke us.”

I nodded. “Yes.” No one argued. Love doesn’t become clean just because it was desperate. Daniel’s choice saved the boys from Michael. It also stole years from all of us.