“We didn’t want to stress you.”
I almost laughed.
“So instead you moved a grown man into my house without asking?”
She looked away.
“You would have said no.”
That was the truth.
Not hidden anymore.
They had not forgotten to ask permission.
They had skipped asking because they knew the answer.
Over the following days, Mr. Collins helped us handle everything formally.
My parents eventually agreed to take Jason’s belongings to their house.
Jason left.
Not happily.
But he left.
When the nursery was empty again, Daniel brought the crib in from the garage.
One side had been scuffed.
Nothing serious.
He tightened every bolt himself.
I washed every blanket.
Every sheet.
Every little outfit.
Not because they were dirty.
Because I needed the room to feel like ours again.
I folded Olivia’s clothes back into the drawers.
Newborn.
Zero to three months.
Tiny socks.
Burp cloths.
The ordinary things I had imagined doing before any of this happened.
That evening, I sat beside the crib while Olivia slept.
For the first time since coming home, the room was quiet.
My phone buzzed.
Mom.
The message was long.
She said I had embarrassed the family.
That bringing an attorney and police officer into a private matter was cruel.
That I had chosen paperwork over my own brother.
That Jason had been struggling and I had made him feel unwanted.
I read the entire message.
Then replied with one sentence.