He’d requested no special treatment.

He’d simply helped secure experienced legal representation, preserve evidence, and ensure my account was heard.

When he later returned to my hospital room, he carried another drawing from Lily.

It showed three people outside a little house beneath a clear blue sky.

Across the bottom, in her uneven handwriting, she’d written:

Home is where we can tell the truth.

Dad set it beside my bed.

“She wanted to make sure you saw it before bedtime,” he said.

I smiled through tears.

“She has a way of saying things better than either of us.”

He chuckled softly, and for several minutes we sat without discussing attorneys, records, or the uncertain months ahead.

Talking about nothing more serious than a child’s drawing felt wonderful.

## Part Six: A Home With Clear Windows

My recovery took longer than anticipated, while legal proceedings continued well beyond the dismissal of the custody petition.