He was reclaiming, one tiny victory at a time, the right to belong to himself again, to need no one’s help to move through his own life.

I watched him refuse to be defeated by any of it.

And somewhere in those months, I began to make my own plans, because I had never meant to stay forever, and it seemed to me that a recovering man no longer needed a caregiver, and that Theodore and I ought to find our own way.

One morning I went to his study to tell him so.

Chapter 25 — The Son He Stopped Looking For