His Choice Wasn't Me
“He used to do that as a toddler. Always had crayons in his hand.”
Ben chuckled. “Then nothing’s changed. Except now he’s taller and hungrier.”
Ben’s tone softened. “It’s not too late, Sarah. You’ve both been through enough. Maybe this is God’s way of bringing us all home.”
Sarah sat up straight, her decision already forming. The pain in her chest was heavy, but underneath it was relief — the kind that made breathing easier for the first time in years.
“I’m coming home tomorrow, Dad,” she said, her voice firm, filled with tears but steady with purpose. “I’m coming home.”