My phone rang. Arthur’s voice was excited. “Did you see it?” he asked. I could barely speak. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. He heard the pain in my voice. “I’m coming home.”
By the time he walked through the door, I was in the kitchen pretending to be fine. He didn’t buy it. “Talk to me,” he said softly. I finally let it out. “I can’t have kids, Arthur. I’ve known for years. I didn’t tell you because… I thought it wouldn’t matter.”
He was quiet for a moment, then hugged me tightly. “You shouldn’t have faced this alone,” he said. “We’ll figure this out together. Adoption, fostering—or maybe it’s just us. Either way, we’re a family.”
Later, he wheeled the stroller inside, and I placed the lilies in a vase. “Let this be a symbol,” I said, “of what we’re building—our way.” He smiled. “From now on, no more secrets.”
And for the first time in years, I felt truly seen.