Chapter 25 - The House Was Never Andre'sTaylor suggested selling the Reed home.

Marcus stared at her.

"Why?"

They were standing in the kitchen.

The same kitchen partly renovated with money tied to Andre's estate.

"I think we need a fresh start."

Marcus shook his head.

"No."

Taylor blinked.

"You love this house?"

"That's not the point."

"What is?"

Marcus leaned against the counter.

"You still think objects absorb moral contamination."

Taylor frowned.

"This house was bought with Andre's money."

"No."

"Ninety-five thousand—"

"Your money."

She looked surprised.

Marcus continued.

"He named you beneficiary. He died. The insurance company paid you. Legally and practically, that money became yours."

"But emotionally—"

"Emotionally, you lied about it."

"Exactly."

"So fix the lie."

Marcus gestured around.

"Don't burn down the result."

Taylor stared.

"I thought you'd never feel comfortable here."

"I didn't for a while."

"And now?"

"This is where my son learned to smile."

Taylor's eyes softened.

"It's where I built his crib."

Marcus looked toward the stairs.

"It's where we fought. Where you told the truth. Where you started therapy."

Taylor swallowed.

Marcus continued.

"If we sell someday because we want another house, fine."

"But not to erase Andre."

"Exactly."

Taylor nodded.

The lesson repeated.

Do not turn correction into deletion.

A month later, they refinanced a portion of their debt under more favorable terms.

They updated wills.

Both created healthcare directives.

Both reviewed beneficiaries.

The process became unexpectedly emotional.

Taylor had never changed an old retirement account beneficiary from her mother.

Denise was dead.

Marcus did not take offense.

He helped Taylor update it to a trust structure benefiting Miles with Marcus as primary personal beneficiary where appropriate.

Marcus updated his own documents too.

"Why does paperwork feel more intimate than our wedding vows?" Taylor asked.

"Because paperwork has consequences."

She laughed.

The attorney reviewing their estate plan asked about guardianship for Miles.

Marcus and Taylor looked at each other.

"Nicole?" Taylor suggested cautiously.

Marcus considered.

Months earlier, the answer would have been no.

Now Nicole had established better boundaries.

Marcus nodded.

"With my mother as alternate."

Taylor agreed.

They discussed it with both women.

No assumptions.

No secret roles.

Nicole cried when asked.

"I promise I won't delete any important texts."

Marcus groaned.

Taylor laughed so hard she nearly dropped her coffee.

Humor had begun to reclaim parts of the story.

Not erase harm.

Reduce its power.

Taylor continued therapy.

She stopped contributing money to Evelyn automatically.

Instead, when Evelyn needed help moving furniture, Taylor visited.

When Evelyn had a medical procedure, Taylor called.

Relationship replaced penance.

The scholarship continued too.

Taylor donated openly from her personal discretionary funds.

Marcus sometimes asked how the event went.

Not because he was policing.

Because it mattered to his wife.

One evening Taylor returned from the scholarship dinner carrying a program.

She handed it to Marcus.

"Read the student essay."

The recipient had written about becoming an engineer to improve accessible transit.

Marcus smiled.

"Kid's good."

"She is."

He looked at the program.

Andre's photograph appeared on the back.

Marcus felt no jolt.

Just recognition.

"Nice picture."

Taylor smiled.

"Yeah."

She placed the program in her office.

Not the nursery.

Not their bedroom.

Her office.

A boundary.

That same night, Marcus received a direct message from Malcolm.

They had not spoken since the leak.

I owe you an apology. I treated protecting Andre's memory like it gave me authority over your son. It didn't.

Marcus stared.

He responded:

Correct.

Then after a minute:

I appreciate the apology.

Malcolm replied:

For what it's worth, Andre would've liked you.

Marcus stared.

Then typed:

Let's not ask dead people to endorse me.

A long pause.

Then Malcolm sent a laughing emoji.

Fair.

Marcus smiled.

He showed Taylor.

She laughed.

"That was mean."

"It was healthy."

"Therapy has made you dangerous."

Marcus kissed her forehead.

The gesture happened naturally.

Taylor went still.

"So," Marcus said, "you free Saturday?"

"For?"

"Dinner."

Her eyes widened.

"Like a date?"

"Don't make it weird."

"We have been married for three years."

"And apparently dating is still weird."

Taylor smiled.

"I'd love to."

Saturday they went to the restaurant where they had their first official date.

Taylor ordered the same drink.

Marcus didn't.

"You always order that."

"I changed."

She stared.

"Symbolism."

"Stop."

They laughed.

Halfway through dinner Marcus said:

"I don't want our marriage to become a permanent recovery program."

Taylor considered.

"Meaning?"

"I don't want every good day to be evaluated based on Andre."

"Neither do I."

"Then let's have good days."

Taylor smiled.

"Revolutionary."

After dinner they drove without destination like they had while dating.

Miles was with Valerie.

Music played softly.

Taylor rested her hand near the console.

Marcus took it.

No discussion.

No therapy language.

No test.

They drove for nearly an hour.

Miles.

Marcus almost laughed at the accidental symbolism.

Taylor caught him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"Our kid's name."

She realized.

"Oh."

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Both laughed.

For once the name Miles carried no burden at all.