Diana picked up on the second ring.
For a moment, Noah said nothing. The same silence that had lived between them for twelve years filled the line again, familiar and heavy, like a door that had never fully closed.
“Hello?” she said, softer now. “Noah?”
He almost hung up. His thumb hovered over the end call button, and in that instant he saw everything at once—the girls’ tiny hands, the sleepless nights, the school lunches, the graduation stage, and the framed court order still leaning against his apartment wall.
“It’s me,” he said finally. His voice sounded older than he expected.
A pause. Then a breath that sounded like relief rather than surprise. “I know.”
Noah walked to the window above the hardware store. The street below was quiet, late evening light stretched thin across the pavement. “I didn’t know if I should call.”
“You always said that right before you did something important,” Diana replied.
