Thor and Celina left the hospital. The checkup had gone smoothly—she and the babies were healthy, and the stitches had been removed. Thor drove with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped firmly around Celina’s, as if that simple touch was the anchor tying him to the reality—and the future—they were building together.

Celina, watching the movement of New York’s streets through the window, decided to touch on a delicate subject. She knew it had to be now, that Thor needed to hear it with his heart open.

“Thor, can I ask you something?” she said, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

“You can ask me anything, my love,” he replied, glancing at her with a flash of tenderness.

“I want you to think about reconnecting with your mother.”

She felt his hand stiffen slightly. Thor drew in a deep breath, visibly uncomfortable.

“Celina, that’s not something—”

“Wait. Just listen. When Angélica came to me and begged me to walk away from you, she did it thinking she was protecting her son. That i