The following morning, Maria's phone buzzed again.
Alexander: "Thank you. I miss him. I miss you."
She stared at the screen, her chest tightening. She didn't know how to reply—so she didn't.
Later that day, she was washing clothes outside when Junior ran to her, clutching his drawing pad.
"Mummy! Look! I drew Daddy again."
She took it gently. It was Alexander again—tall, smiling, with Junior on his shoulders. Maria stared at the small detail: a heart between the figures.
"He remembers," she murmured.
That night, she finally called.
Alexander picked up on the first ring.
"Maria…" His voice was low. Soft. Unsure.
"I'm not ready to return," she said quickly, before her courage failed.
"I understand. I'm not asking you to."
There was a long silence.
"I just want to do right by you both," he said. "Whatever that looks like."
Maria closed her eyes. "Then stop the press. Get Junior's pictures off the internet. Clear my name."
"I already started," he replied. "The lawsuits are moving. Some bloggers already took the story down."
She exhaled. "Thank you."
"I don't expect forgiveness," he added. "But I'm here… when you're ready."
Maria hung up after that. No goodbye. No promises.
But she smiled for the first time in days.
Maybe he was changing.