Julian looked at her, this woman who had chased him across three countries for five years and driven him half mad with her noise and her persistence and her absolute refusal to be ignored, and saw something in her he hadn't made room to see before.
Someone who had been through something real. Someone who was still standing.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Yvette didn't make anything of it. Just nodded once, small, final, and turned and walked away down the corridor. Her heels were steady on the floor.
Her back was straight. The nanny followed beside her, and the baby was a small pale yellow bundle against the nanny's shoulder, and Yvette did not look back.
Julian stood in the empty hallway and watched until they turned the corner and were gone. The quiet that came after was absolute.
He looked down at the card in his hand. Turned it once. Slid it into his jacket pocket.
