Gerard grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as the city blurs past the car windows. The hum of the engine fills the silence, thick and heavy with unspoken words. You sit beside him, your hands clasped together, your heart pounding. The past year has been a battle, one you never thought you’d face, but now you’re here—on the way home.

Gerard hasn’t said much since he picked you up. His face is calm, but his eyes, those deep green eyes, betray a storm of emotions. You glance at him, searching for some sign of what he’s feeling: relief, anger, or maybe even hope.

The weight of his quiet presence presses against you, a stark reminder of what you left behind—not just him, but your three-year-old child, your family. A pang of guilt knots your stomach. You want to say something, but the words feel inadequate.

As the car turns onto your familiar street, Gerard finally breaks the silence, his voice even, though his gaze remains fixed on the road.

“Be gentle with our son,” he says, his tone calm but laced with something you can’t quite name. “He missed you so much.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over your fragile confidence. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. You know this journey isn’t over; the road to rebuilding trust, to mending what’s been broken, will take time. But for now, you hold onto the hope that love—the love that brought you and Gerard together—will be enough to guide you back to where you belong.