Chapter 10
Six months later.
The yellow house with the white picket fence is the happiest place in the world.
Bao is six now. He’s in first grade. He’s reading chapter books all by himself. He’s got a best friend named Tuan who lives two doors down. They ride their bikes up and down the street every afternoon, yelling and laughing so loud the whole neighborhood can hear them.
The nightmares are gone. Completely. He sleeps through the night, every night, wrapped up in his dinosaur comforter, his rocket Lego on the shelf above his bed. He doesn’t remember the monster. He doesn’t remember the bruise. He doesn’t remember the day the police came to our house.
All he remembers is that he’s loved.
My husband is still at the same company. He’s up for another promotion this year. He coaches Bao’s soccer team. Every Saturday morning, you can find him on the field, yelling encouragement, high-fiving every kid on the team, even the ones on the other side. He’s the dad every other kid wishes they had.
We still go to therapy. Once a month, just to check in. We don’t need it as much anymore. We talk now. About everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. No more secrets. No more lies. No more letting anyone come between us.
We still wear our wedding rings.
One evening in late spring, we’re in the backyard.
The sun is going down. The sky is pink and orange and purple, like someone spilled watercolor all over it. The air smells like jasmine from the bush by the fence.
Bao is running around, chasing a butterfly with orange wings. He’s barefoot, his hair a mess, his shirt half untucked. He’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe.
My husband is standing next to me, flipping burgers on the grill. He wraps his free arm around my waist. He pulls me back against his chest. He kisses the side of my neck.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he says.
I smile. I lean into him.
“I was just thinking,” I say. “About how lucky we are. How we almost lost everything. And now… we have everything.”
He nods. He holds me tighter.
“I think about that every day,” he says. “Every time I look at you. Every time I look at him. I never, ever take it for granted. Not for one second.”
Bao stops running. The butterfly lands on a flower a few feet away. He stands very still, watching it, his eyes wide.
Then he turns to us. He grins. He holds up a crumpled piece of paper he’s been carrying around all afternoon.
“Mommy! Daddy! Look what I drew at school today!”
He runs over. He shoves the paper into my hands.
It’s a crayon drawing. Three stick figures, holding hands. The tallest one has short hair and is wearing blue. That’s Daddy. The middle one has long hair and is wearing pink. That’s me. The smallest one has spiky hair and is wearing green. That’s Bao.
Above their heads, there’s a big yellow sun with a smiley face. And a blue sky full of clouds. And in the corner, written in wobbly six-year-old letters: MY FAMLY. WE R HAPY.
I feel tears prick my eyes. I kneel down so I’m eye level with him.
“This is the most beautiful drawing I’ve ever seen,” I say.
“Really?” he says, his face lighting up.
“Really,” my husband says. He kneels down too. He puts one hand on Bao’s shoulder. “I’m gonna hang it on the fridge. Right in the middle. Where everyone can see it.”
Bao beams. He throws his arms around both of us at the same time, squeezing as tight as he can.
“Mommy?” he says, his voice small against my shirt.
“Yes, baby?”
He pulls back. He looks at me. His big brown eyes are serious.
“We’re safe now, right?” he says. “No more monsters. No more bad people. We’re all together forever?”
I look at my husband. He’s smiling, but his eyes are shiny too.
I pull Bao close again. I kiss the top of his messy hair. I hold him like I’ll never let go.
“Yes, my love,” I say. My voice is thick, but strong. Sure. “We’re safe. We’re so, so safe. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever take you away from us. We are all together. And we will be together forever. I promise.”
Bao sighs, content. He rests his head on my shoulder.
“Good,” he says. “’Cause I love you both. More than ice cream. More than Lego. More than the moon and all the stars.”
My husband reaches over. He wipes a tear off my cheek with his thumb. He leans in and kisses me, soft and sweet, right there in the grass, while the sun goes down and our son is safe in our arms.
The butterfly flutters away. The burgers sizzle on the grill. Somewhere down the street, a dog barks. A kid laughs.
Everything is exactly as it should be.
We went through hell. We were torn apart by lies and hate and fear. We almost lost each other.
But we fought. We fought for each other. We fought for our son. We fought for the family we’d built, the family we loved more than anything in the world.
And we won.
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We are home. We are whole. We are loved.
And nothing, ever again, will take that away from us.
