"Then don't scare him."
"I am not scaring him."
Noah hid slightly behind Ethan's leg.
That answered everything.
Ethan looked down.
"How long, buddy?"
Noah whispered:
"Sometimes until Grandma says I stop crying."
Ethan stared at his mother.
Margaret's expression became defensive.
"I don't reward tantrums."
"How long?"
"I don't time it exactly."
"An hour?"
"No."
"Thirty minutes?"
Margaret looked away.
Ethan felt sick.
"Mom."
"If he sits there screaming, that's his choice."
"He's four."
"Stop saying that!"
The shout echoed.
Noah covered his ears.
Ethan immediately picked him up.
Margaret saw the reaction.
For a fraction of a second, shame appeared.
Then pride returned.
"You don't understand."
Ethan held Noah.
"You're right."
His voice was quiet.
"I didn't."
He looked around the house.
"And that's on me."
Margaret frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm not making the same mistake twice."
Ethan lifted his duffel bag.
Margaret stared.
"What are you doing?"
"We're leaving."
Noah looked surprised.
Margaret laughed in disbelief.
"Ethan."
He picked up Noah's shoes from beside the back door.
"You've been home ten minutes."
"That's enough."
"You're being ridiculous."
"Maybe."
He knelt and put the shoes on Noah.
Margaret walked closer.
"Where are you taking him?"
"A hotel tonight."
"A hotel?"
"Then home."
"This is his home."
"No."
Ethan stood.
"This is your house."
Margaret's face hardened.
"And where exactly is your home?"
The question hit.
Ethan's apartment near base had been terminated during deployment.
Most of his belongings were in storage.
The plan had always been to stay with Margaret for two months while finding a house near his new assignment.
Margaret knew that.
She crossed her arms.
"You don't even have somewhere to take him."
"I'll find one."
"With what? Your luggage?"
Ethan looked at Noah.
The boy watched both adults.
He hated this.
Hated arguing in front of him.
"Buddy, go get your backpack."
Noah looked toward Margaret.
Ethan touched his shoulder.
"Go."
Noah ran upstairs.
Margaret lowered her voice.
"You are making an emotional decision."
"Probably."
"You're exhausted."
"Definitely."
"You have no idea what parenting alone has been like."
Ethan stared at her.
"Neither do you."
Margaret blinked.
"I've been doing it."
"No."
His voice cracked.
"You've been controlling him."
"That's parenting."
"No."
Margaret looked genuinely confused.
For the first time, Ethan realized this wasn't simple cruelty.
She believed it.
Every punishment.
Every harsh word.
She believed she was helping.
The realization frightened him more than intentional malice would have.
She had believed the same things when Ethan was a child.
He just never had the language for it.
Margaret said:
"You turned out fine."
There it was.
The oldest justification in the world.
Ethan laughed softly.
"Did I?"
She stared.