I remember Elliot’s hand on my knee at a red light.
The way he cleared his throat before speaking.
« Whatever happens, » he said, « we’ll get through this. Together. »
« They were also in the accident. »
« You promise? »
« I promise. »
The twins survived.
Bruised, stitched, terrified, but alive.
When the social worker sat me down in a small beige room and asked about guardianship, I did not need a single second to think.
« You promise? »