Like the little girl in the yellow dress didn’t exist.
That night, Ethan got home late.
Jack was asleep on the couch, TV still flickering with some cartoon rerun. A half-eaten peanut butter sandwich sat on the coffee table. Ethan smiled faintly, shut off the TV, and carried his son to bed with his good arm.
“Dad?” Jack murmured, half-asleep.
“Yeah, bud.”
“You… you really stopped a bad guy?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Just helped someone,” he said quietly.
Jack nodded against his shoulder. “That’s what heroes do.”
Ethan didn’t answer.
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