Sarah nodded.
"Six months ago."
James looked at Noah.
The baby stared back.
Suddenly the story he had built in his head began collapsing.
Not completely.
But enough.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Sarah looked at him.
"Because I was waiting."
"For what?"
"For you."
James frowned.
"That makes no sense."
"When Emily died, Noah was going into foster care."
James went silent.
"I told them I would take him temporarily."
"Temporarily."
"Yes."
"And then?"
Sarah looked away.
"Then he stayed."
James understood.
"What about me?"
Sarah closed her eyes.
"I didn't know what to tell you."
"Try."
She wiped her face.
"I was afraid you'd think I was replacing our family."
James stared.
"Our family?"
She nodded.
"Our family."
James looked at the empty space beside him.
He and Sarah had tried for years to have children.
Three miscarriages.
Doctors.
Treatments.
Hope.
Loss.
Eventually, they stopped talking about it.
Then he left.
And while he was gone, a baby entered her life.
A baby who was not theirs.
A baby who needed her.
"Why did you hide it?"
Sarah whispered.
"Because I knew the first thing you would see."
James looked at her.
"The baby."
She nodded.
"And I was right."
He looked down.
He hated that she was right.
Sarah continued.
"You would see another child in my arms."
"Because that's what happened."
"Yes."
"You knew."
"I did."
James stood.
He walked toward the crib.
Noah watched him.
Tiny fingers wrapped around the edge of the blanket.
James stared.
He had imagined coming home to a child.
His child.
A child calling him Dad.
Instead, he found this.
A baby who had lost his mother.
A wife who had carried a secret.
A family that had changed without him.
Noah reached toward him.
James hesitated.
Then slowly touched his tiny hand.
The baby grabbed his finger.
James froze.
It was such a small thing.
A meaningless thing.
But it hurt.
Because he had missed so much.
He looked at Sarah.
"You should have told me."
"I know."
"I deserved to know."
"I know."
"Even if I was angry."
"I know."
James nodded.
The truth remained.
She had done something wrong.
But not the thing he first believed.
And somehow that was harder.
Because anger was easier when someone was simply guilty.
Sarah sat down.
"My sister called me three days before she died."
James looked at her.
"She knew."
"Knew what?"
"That she might not make it."
Sarah's voice broke.
"She asked me if I would take Noah."
James looked at the baby.
"She trusted you."
"Yes."
"And you didn't trust me."
Sarah cried.
That was the wound.
Not the baby.
Not Marcus.
Not the secret.
That.
"You chose alone."