Not light.
Real.
I looked down at my hands.
“I think I’m learning how to be,” I said.
He nodded slowly.
“That’s enough,” he said.
A week later, I found the recordings again.
I don’t know why I opened them.
Maybe curiosity.
Maybe something else.
I sat at my desk and pressed play on one I hadn’t heard before.
Leo’s voice came through, quieter than usual.
“What if she doesn’t want it anymore?”
There was a long pause.
Then Sam answered.
“Then at least she’ll know she had the choice.”
Silence.
Then Leo again.
“She gave us one.”
I had to stop the recording.
I couldn’t listen anymore.
Because that was the part that broke me open.
Not the job.
Not the opportunity.
That.
The fact that they understood something I hadn’t even admitted to myself.
That what I lost wasn’t just a career.
It was the ability to choose.
And they gave it back to me.
Without asking.
Without expecting anything in return.
That evening, I called them both into the living room.
They rolled in, side by side, like they always had.
“Okay,” Sam said cautiously. “That tone sounds serious.”
“It is,” I said.
Leo raised an eyebrow. “Should we be worried?”
“Probably,” I said, smiling faintly.
They exchanged a look.
Then I took a breath.
“I need to say something,” I began. “And I need you to let me finish before you interrupt.”
That got their attention.
“I spent a long time believing that loving you meant giving everything else up,” I said. “And I don’t regret that. Not for a second.”
They stayed quiet.
“But somewhere along the way,” I continued, “I stopped seeing myself as anything outside of being your mom.”
Sam’s expression softened.
“And that wasn’t your fault,” I added quickly. “That was me. That was a choice I made.”
Leo leaned forward slightly.
“But what you did,” I said, my voice tightening, “what you’ve been doing for a year… you didn’t just give me an opportunity.”
I paused.
“You gave me myself back.”
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