That mattered.
She said she had wanted to hand me a dream so badly that she forgot dreams were supposed to be shared before they were built.
She never defended the lie.
***
Three days later, we moved in.
Not because everything was fixed.
Because we had decided to fix it together.
After the last box was unpacked, I found a wooden plaque hanging beside the back door.
“The strongest homes are built together.”
Outside, Eli kicked his soccer ball across the yard until he tired himself out and dropped laughing into the grass.
“The strongest homes are built together.”
Renee stepped beside me on the porch and slipped a spare key into my palm.
“This house belongs to both of us,” she said softly. Then she wiped her cheek. “So does every dream after this.”
I closed my fingers around the key.
For seven months, I had thanked my wife for carrying another family’s child.
Only then did I understand: All along, she had been carrying our family’s future.
This time, we would carry it together.
She had been carrying our family’s future.
