The photograph stayed in Lillian's mind the entire drive home.
No matter how hard she tried to focus on the road.
No matter how many times she told herself she was overthinking it.
Three years.
Three years apart.
Three years without seeing him.
Three years believing he'd moved on.
Yet her photograph was still sitting on the bedside table beside his bed.
Not hidden away.
Not packed into a box.
Not forgotten.
Beside his bed.
Where he would see it every morning.
And every night.
Lillian tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
She didn't know what to do with that information.
And honestly?
She wasn't sure she wanted to.
Eventually she pulled into the apartment building's parking garage.
The suitcase sat in the backseat.
Filled with Sebastian's clothes.
His medications.
Books.
Personal belongings.
A small piece of the life he'd left behind.
Lillian took a deep breath.
Then stepped out of the car.
A few minutes later she unlocked the apartment door.
The apartment was quiet.
Very quiet.
No cartoons playing.
No little voice talking endlessly.
No tiny feet running through the hallway.
Ellie was still at school.
The silence felt strange after spending so much time around her.
Lillian wheeled the suitcase inside.
The sound immediately caught Sebastian's attention.
He looked up from the couch.
A book rested in his hands.
Though judging by the fact he'd barely moved since she left, he hadn't been reading much.
"You're back."
Lillian nodded.
"I got everything I could think of."
Sebastian stood.
His movements were slower than usual.
Still tired.
Still recovering.
He took the suitcase handle from her.
"You didn't have to bring this much."
"I know."
The answer made him look at her.
For a second she thought he might ask about the mansion.
About why she looked distracted.
About what she'd found there.
Instead he simply nodded.
"Thank you."
Lillian looked away first.
"You're welcome."
Sebastian carried the suitcase into the guest room.
When he opened it, he froze.
Because Lillian hadn't simply thrown clothes into a bag.
Everything was organized.
Neatly folded shirts.
Sweaters.
Trousers.
His medications.
His phone charger.
His reading glasses.
Several books from his study.
Even a spare notebook.
Items he hadn't even remembered needing.
Sebastian picked up one of the books.
A faint smile touched his face.
Three years later.
And somehow she still knew him better than anyone.
The realization lingered long after he closed the suitcase.
The rest of the morning passed quietly.
Lillian worked from the dining table.
Her laptop open.
Coffee beside her.
Trying very hard to focus.
Trying very hard not to think about photographs.
Across the room, Sebastian sat on the couch.
Occasionally reading.
Occasionally staring out the window.
Mostly staring out the window.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable.
Just unfamiliar.
Years ago they had never needed conversation to fill every moment.
Now they were relearning how to exist around each other.
Around lunchtime, Lillian finally closed her laptop.
"You should eat something."
Sebastian looked up.
"I'm not hungry."
"The doctor said—."
"I know what the doctor said."
The sharpness in his voice appeared immediately.
And just as quickly, regret followed.
Lillian noticed.
So did Sebastian.
He rubbed a hand across his face.
"Sorry."
The apology surprised both of them.
"You don't need to apologize."
"Actually, I do."
He looked away.
"I'm irritated at everything today."
Lillian remembered Dr. Reynolds' warning.
Mood swings.
Irritability.
Withdrawal.
"It's okay."
Sebastian laughed quietly.
"No."
His hands trembled slightly.
"I don't think it is."
The shaking hadn't disappeared.
Some days were better.
Some were worse.
Today clearly wasn't one of the better days.
Lillian wanted to say something.
Something comforting.
But she wasn't sure what.
Fortunately, her phone rang.
School pickup.
The interruption gave both of them an escape.
An hour later, Lillian and Ellie returned.
The apartment door flew open.
And peace immediately vanished.
"Mommy!"
Lillian laughed.
"I'm literally right beside you."
Ellie ignored that completely.
She burst into the apartment carrying a drawing.
"Daddy!"
Sebastian looked up instantly.
The exhaustion in his eyes softened.
"Hi, Ellie."
"I made something!"
She thrust the paper toward him.
Sebastian accepted it like it was priceless.
Which, to him, it probably was.
A drawing.
Three stick figures.
One labeled Mommy.
One labeled Ellie.
One labeled Daddy.
Sebastian stared at it.
His chest tightened.
Then Ellie proudly announced:
"I told teacher I got a daddy."
Silence.
The room froze.
Lillian stopped moving.
Sebastian stopped breathing.
Ellie blinked.
"What?"
She genuinely didn't understand why everyone was staring at her.
Finally Sebastian found his voice.
"You told your teacher that?"
Ellie nodded enthusiastically.
"Yep."
As if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Because to her, it was.
"I said Daddy came back."
The words hit Sebastian harder than anything else.
Daddy came back.
Not Daddy showed up.
Not Daddy appeared.
Daddy came back.
As though she'd always expected him to.
As though she'd never doubted he'd eventually be there.
Sebastian suddenly stood.
"I'll be right back."
Then he disappeared into the hallway.
Lillian watched him go.
She understood immediately.
The emotion on his face had been impossible to miss.
That evening passed quietly.
Dinner.
Bath time.
Bedtime.
Eventually Ellie fell asleep.
Curled beneath her blanket.
Holding her stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest.
The apartment grew quiet again.
Lillian sat on the couch with her laptop.
Sebastian stood near the window.
Staring out at the city lights.
The silence stretched.
Then Lillian noticed his hands.
Shaking.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Enough for her to recognize the signs.
She closed her laptop.
"Sebastian."
He glanced over.
"What?"
She hesitated.
Then spoke gently.
"You're thinking about drinking."
For several seconds he didn't answer.
Then:
"Yes."
No denial.
No excuses.
No lies.
Just honesty.
Lillian's heart hurt.
Because she could hear how difficult it was.
Sebastian looked back out the window.
"I don't know how to do this."
"What?"
"This."
He laughed softly.
A tired, broken sound.
"Recovery."
The word felt strange coming from him.
"I don't know how to live without it."
Lillian remained silent.
Listening.
"I drank when work got difficult."
A pause.
"I drank when I couldn't sleep."
Another pause.
"I drank when I was angry."
His voice grew quieter.
"And after you left..."
Lillian's chest tightened.
"I drank then too."
The room fell silent.
Neither knew what to say.
And through it all, Lillian kept seeing that photograph.
The one beside his bed.
The one she'd never expected to find.
But she didn't mention it.
Not tonight.
Eventually Sebastian headed toward the guest room.
Halfway down the hallway he stopped.
Ellie's bedroom door was slightly open.
A small sliver of light spilled into the hall.
Sebastian gently pushed the door open.
Ellie was asleep.
One arm wrapped around her stuffed rabbit.
Her blonde hair spread across the pillow.
Peaceful.
Safe.
His daughter.
The craving was still there.
The anxiety.
The restlessness.
The urge to escape.
But looking at her somehow made it easier.
Made it quieter.
A small smile appeared on his face.
Then he whispered softly into the darkness.
"Worth it."
Not the struggle.
Not the withdrawal.
Not the sleepless nights.
Her.
Ellie was worth all of it.
And for the first time since he stopped drinking, Sebastian truly believed he could keep going.