He had spent months expecting relief to arrive in a single, decisive moment.

Instead he felt tired, then angry, then unexpectedly empty.

“It’s finished,” he said when I came downstairs.

“Part of it is,” I answered.

The independent pediatric team continued to care for Owen and Mason.

Their progress had been steady but imperfect.

Kenneth had learned to accept a good month without demanding a perfect one.

He no longer asked the doctors to guarantee what nobody could know.