When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed

“No.”

“Maybe you did.”

I took a breath.

“Maybe some things I said made him feel worse.”

Oliver stared.

“But leaving was his decision.”

I could own my part without taking ownership of David’s disappearance.

Oliver needed that nuance.