ISABELLA’S POVIt started at breakfast.Brahms pushed his oatmeal around his bowl with the focused dissatisfaction of a five-year-old who had already decided the morning was not going his way. He looked up at me, then at Ethan, then back at me."I want… Je veux aller au parc," he said.*I want to go to the park*"Plus tard," I said. "Mange d'abord."*Later, eat first*"Central Park," he said, switching to English with the deliberateness of a child who understood that specificity helped his case. "The fountain one.""You're still recovering, Brahms.""Dr. Wolcott said outside is okay." He looked at Ethan. "She said. On Monday. Outside is okay now."Ethan, to his credit, took exactly two seconds before he betrayed me. "She did clear him for light outdoor activity."I looked at him across the kitchen island. "I know what she said.""He's been on the terrace every day this week.""The terrace is controlled.""It's also twelve feet wide." Ethan picked up his coffee. "The park isn't a bad i
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