Harmony Hills' final morning arrived too soon.
Jason was humming to himself as he packed his pinecones and sketches into his bag. Early light streaked the sky outside, and birds chirped as though nothing significant had occurred over the weekend—nothing like a child subtly pleading with his parents to restore a world they had previously allowed to fall apart.
Michael watched the sunrise from the window of the cabin. He had slept very little. His thoughts kept returning to Jason's query... and Lorna's subsequent silence.
He turned, and she emerged from the bedroom. They looked at each other.Harmony Hills' final morning arrived too soon.
She appeared worn out as well, but in a way that broke his heart, she was softer and more vulnerable.
"I was thinking about how everything has changed," he said in a low voice.
Lorna nodded and crossed her arms. "It has."
He remarked, "I never stop waiting for the right moment." "To express things correctly. the secure method. However, I discovered this past weekend that there isn't any such thing.
With caution but curiosity, she cocked her head. "What do you say?"
Michael stepped closer and exhaled.
"Lorna, you still have my love."
In silence, the words fell like a match. No dramatics. No music. Just the facts.
Lorna stopped. Neither here nor now had she prepared for this.
Michael continued, now more quietly. "I've made an effort to go on, to be happy with co-parenting and fresh starts. However, the truth is that I see the woman who transformed me each time I gaze upon you. Who still does?
She remained silent. Her face was unreadable.
Delicate and weighted, the seconds dragged between them.
Then she moved forward slowly and put her arms around him.
Closely.
As if she were clinging to something she had yet to name.
After tensing up for a heartbeat, Michael gently and respectfully held her back. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her hair. He wasn't expecting any words.
She didn't offer them either.
Not just yet.
However, her embrace conveyed a lot of history, healing, and feelings that were too intense to express out loud.
The hug was sufficient for now.
It was her way of saying:
I heard you. I'm not ready… but I'm not running either.
And sometimes, that was the first real step toward something whole.