“I’ve spent weeks feeling like I’m failing because I can’t even lift my own sons,” I confessed softly.
“Brianna,” he began, taking a step forward.
“Let me finish,” I insisted, stopping him. “When this cast comes off, I get another chance to feel like their mother again. You can have a second chance too.”
Mason leaned forward eagerly. “At us?”
“At being better than you’ve been,” I clarified. I held his gaze without flinching. “But I’m not dragging you there.”
Over the next few weeks, Mason started showing up consistently before I even thought to ask. He left his office right on time twice a week, added the boys’ pediatric appointments directly to his personal work calendar, and learned through trial and error that Liam settled much faster against his chest while Noah usually needed constant rhythm before falling asleep. He still got things wrong from time to time, but I stopped stepping in to rescue him every single time he stumbled.
