"Together," she echoed, the word sounding like relief.
"You're not alone in this, Mom. Whatever happens, whatever mess comes next—you'll never face it alone. I promise."
She nodded against my chest, and I felt the shift in the room like a physical thing: the suffocating heaviness that had pressed down since I walked through the door began to lift, replaced by something lighter. Warmer.
Something that tasted—impossibly—like the very beginning of joy.
"Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you… are you happy? About this?"
I pulled back just enough to cup her face in both hands, making sure she could see every bit of truth in my eyes.
"Happy?" I laughed—not bitter, not forced, but with genuine, startled wonder. "Mom, I've built an empire. I created ARIA—a literal goddess who can rewrite physics for fun. I've got more money than most countries, more power than should be legal, and a mansion that could probably host its own zip code. But this—"
