Min-ho caught his gaze once. He didn't smile, didn't try to engage, just gave a small nod and returned his attention to the road. Eli relaxed by a fraction of a degree.
"How much longer?" I asked.
"Twenty minutes." Min-ho's voice was soft, careful, calibrated for the nervous child in the backseat. "There's a town about ten minutes from the house. Grocery store, library, a park with a playground. I thought we could explore it together sometime. When everyone's settled."
The offer was directed at Eli without addressing him directly. A gentle invitation, no pressure, no expectation. I felt my heart swell with gratitude for this man who understood without being told, who adapted without being asked.
"That sounds nice," I said. "Doesn't it, Eli?"
Eli shrugged. But his grip on my hand loosened slightly, and I counted that as a win.
The house emerged from the trees as we rounded the final curve.
I'd seen pictures, heard descriptions, but nothing had prepared me for the reality. It sat against the mountainside with quiet confidence, all warm wood and river stone and windows that reflected the setting sun in shades of amber and rose. A wide porch wrapped around the front, furnished with rocking chairs that invited long evenings spent watching the stars emerge. The landscaping was wild but intentional, native plants softening the edges, a gravel path winding toward the door.
Beyond the house, the mountains rose in layered ridges, purple and blue fading into the distance. The air smelleddifferent here, clean and sharp with pine and the faint mineral tang of the nearby stream Min-ho had mentioned.
"Min-ho." My voice came out hoarse. "It's beautiful."
"It's home." He pulled into the garage and cut the engine. "Your home now. All of you."
Rosa made an appreciative sound from the front seat. "You built this?"
"Most of it. Had help with the foundation and the roof, but the rest I did myself. Took three years."
Three years of labor, three years of planning, three years of building a house for a family he didn't yet have. The knowledge sat in my chest, weighted with all the time we'd lost and all the time we still had to gain.
Eli was asleep by the time we got inside. The drive had exhausted him, the emotional weight of the past days finally catching up. Min-ho offered to carry him, but I shook my head, unwilling to push too far too fast. I carried my son through the front door and into the home Min-ho had built for us.
The interior matched the exterior in warmth and craft. Open floor plan, soaring ceilings supported by hand-hewn beams, a massive stone fireplace that dominated the living room. The furniture was simple but comfortable, chosen for function rather than show. Everything smelled of woodsmoke and something green, like the forest had found its way inside.
"Eli's room is at the end of the hall," Min-ho said quietly. "I set up a bed and basic furniture. We can decorate however he wants once he's ready."
I carried Eli down the hall, past the master bedroom with its king-sized bed, past a bathroom done in slate and copper, to a door painted a soft blue. Inside, I found a small bed with a quilt folded at the foot, a dresser, a bookshelf waiting to be filled. The window faced east, just as Min-ho had described. Good morning light for a child to wake up to.
I laid Eli on the bed and tucked Chompers under his arm. He stirred but didn't wake, his small body instinctively curling around the stuffed dinosaur. I stood watching him for a long moment, this miracle I had fought so hard to protect.
Safe. He was finally safe.
Rosa appeared in the doorway. "I'll sit with him for a while. You two should eat something. Get settled."
"Rosa—"
"Go." Her voice was firm but kind. "You've barely had a moment alone since the trial period began. I'll call you if he wakes up."
I kissed Eli's forehead and left him in Rosa's capable hands.
Min-ho was in the kitchen, pulling containers from the refrigerator. "Garrett stocked us up before we arrived. Said he figured we wouldn't want to deal with grocery shopping right away."
"That was thoughtful of him."
"He's a good friend." Min-ho set the containers on the counter and turned to face me. "Are you hungry?"
I shook my head. Hunger wasn't what I was feeling. Not for food.
He read it on my face before I could think to mask it. Min-ho's eyes darkened. His hands stilled on the counter.
"Dalvin."
