The boy looked down and slowly picked up his fork. Andrew frowned. Since Noah had appeared in his home, he hadn’t asked for a single thing—not food, not explanations, not comfort. He simply existed in this silence, and it irritated Andrew more than he could explain.

— We need to talk, — he said finally.

Noah abruptly put his fork down on the plate.

— About what?

Andrew took a deep breath.

— There’s a family that wants to adopt you.

The boy slowly blinked. His face remained impassive.

— Okay, — he said quietly.

Andrew felt a chill.

— They’re a good family. They have money. They can give you everything you need.

— I understand, — Noah replied and turned away.

— And that’s all you have to say? — Andrew scowled.

Noah shrugged.

— What can I do? I don’t have a choice, right?

Andrew’s heart hammered.

— It’s not about choice. This is what’s best for you.

The boy slowly nodded.

— If you say so…

Andrew felt a hollowness in his stomach. Somewhere deep inside, he had hoped Noah would object, argue, say he didn’t want to go. But the boy just accepted it, as if he were already used to being abandoned.

Andrew squeezed his temples, feeling a headache pulse. He stood up sharply from the table and snapped, — I need to go out. Stay here.

Noah nodded without looking up. Andrew grabbed his coat and quickly left the apartment. The cold Chicago morning hit him in the face, but he barely noticed. He walked along the snow-covered streets of Lincoln Park, oblivious to the passersby hurrying about their business. Why did he feel so terrible if he was doing the right thing? There was no answer.

The day passed in a strained silence. Andrew avoided Noah, shutting himself in his study and burying himself in work—flipping through documents, answering calls, checking emails. Not because there was much to do, but because he didn’t want to face his own doubts. The decision was made: Noah would go to the Harrisons. It was for the best. Wasn’t it?

When it grew dark, Andrew came out of his study and saw Noah in the hallway. The boy was sitting on the floor, staring into space. Something inside Andrew clenched.

— What are you doing here? — he asked, more sharply than he intended.

Noah slowly raised his head.

— Nothing, — he answered quietly.

Andrew pressed his lips together. He didn’t understand this boy. Didn’t understand why he accepted everything without question. Why his silence was so infuriating.

— Get up, — he said, his voice sounding harsh.

Noah obediently rose but didn’t leave. He just stood there, looking at Andrew with a strange expression. Then he asked quietly:

— Why do you want to give me to another family?

Andrew felt a pang in his chest. He ran a hand over his face and sighed.

— Because it will be better for you.

Noah frowned—the first real emotion he had shown.

— How do you know?

Andrew tensed.

— They have money. They’ll give you a good life.

The boy clenched his small fists.

— But I don’t want a family that just has money.

Andrew flinched.

— Noah…

— I just wanted to stay here, — the boy’s voice trembled.

Andrew swallowed hard.

— I don’t know how to be around kids. I don’t know how to be a father.

Noah looked at him with infinite sadness.

— I don’t need a perfect dad. I just need you not to leave me.

Something inside Andrew cracked. But his old instinct—to wall himself off—took over.

— The Harrisons are coming tomorrow. Be ready.

Noah stared at him intently.

— Why don’t you love me?

Andrew froze. The boy took a step forward, his jaw set.

— Tell me the truth.

Andrew’s heart pounded, and the words escaped on their own:

— Because you’re not my son.

The silence became unbearable. Noah blinked slowly, his face expressionless. Andrew wanted to take it back, to say something else, but it was too late. The boy turned and ran. Andrew was left alone in the hallway, choking on his own guilt. He had just broken the heart of the one child who truly needed him.

How long he stood there, Andrew didn’t know. His own words echoed in his head: «Because you’re not my son.» He hadn’t wanted to say it. But he had. Exasperated, he looked toward the stairs and called out:

— Noah!

Silence. The knot in his stomach tightened. Andrew searched the apartment, looking in every room, but the boy was nowhere to be found. When he opened the door to the balcony, the cold night air cut his face. And then he saw him.

Noah was sitting on a small chair in the corner of the balcony, hugging his knees. He didn’t look up when Andrew approached.

— Noah, — Andrew repeated quietly.

The boy didn’t answer. Andrew felt his chest constrict. Noah wasn’t crying, but there was something in his posture worse than tears—resignation, as if he was already used to being pushed away.

— I’m sorry, — Andrew said, kneeling in front of him.

Noah blinked slowly.

— You don’t have to be. I get it.

Andrew felt a wave of desperation wash over him.

— I didn’t mean that.

— But you said it, — the boy replied softly.

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment. For the first time, he was afraid—afraid that he had done something irreparable.

— Why are you still here?

Noah shrugged.

— Waiting for the new family to come.

Andrew’s stomach clenched. No. He didn’t want the boy to feel replaceable, worthless. He took off his own coat and draped it over Noah’s shoulders. The boy looked up at him, surprised.

— It’s cold, — Andrew mumbled, feeling awkward.

Noah lowered his head. And for the first time, Andrew felt something new—a faint thread of connection, fragile but real. He sighed and stood up.

— Let’s go inside.

Noah nodded silently and followed him. And for the first time, Andrew realized he didn’t want him to leave.

He didn’t sleep that night. He sat in his study, staring at the file. Eleanor had left it for him. She had trusted him to make the right choice. But what was the right choice?

He ran a hand over his face and glanced at a shelf where a wooden box sat—one of the few things of Eleanor’s he had kept. Without thinking, he took it down and opened it. Inside were photos, letters, and a small USB drive with «Eleanor» written in her handwriting.

A chill ran down his spine. He inserted the drive into his laptop. There was only one video file. He clicked on it—and Eleanor’s face appeared on the screen.

Andrew held his breath as Eleanor appeared on the screen. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, her eyes shone with warmth, and a gentle smile made her seem so alive, as if she had never left this world. He felt his heart ache with a mixture of pain and tenderness.

— Andrew, — she began in her soft voice, and the sound of it struck him like thunder. — If you’re watching this, it means you’ve already met Noah.

He clenched his fists, feeling his fingers tremble. Eleanor sighed and looked away, as if searching for the right words.

— I know this might be difficult for you. Maybe you’re angry. Maybe you feel betrayed. But I want you to know: I never wanted to hide anything from you.

Andrew felt a lump form in his throat. Eleanor smiled sadly.

— I tried to tell you so many times, but you were always busy. And then I just got scared—scared that you wouldn’t understand, that you wouldn’t accept him.

Those words cut him like a knife. He remembered how many times he had brushed off her attempts to talk, how many times he had said, «We’ll talk later.» Later never came.

— Noah has no one, Andrew, — Eleanor continued, her voice trembling. — We could have been a family for him. But now, you’re all he has left.