the way he always asked too many questions before bed. I listened without trying to turn every story into another reason to hate the years I had lost.
There were legal details too. We met with attorneys, discussed custody, arranged visits, and agreed that Leo’s sense of safety mattered more than my impatience. At first, I was simply Ivan, the man Mom used to know. Then I became Ivan, the man who came on Saturdays. Slowly, I became someone he expected to see again.
Every small promise mattered. If I
