Chapter 11 - THE FATHER WHO LEARNED TO LISTEN
Luca's speech returned gradually.
Some days, he spoke several words.
Other days, he preferred gestures or drawings.
His care team continued supporting him.
Vincent learned not to measure progress by how much his son talked.
Instead, he measured it by connection.
A smile.
A shared joke.
A hug.
A drawing left on his desk.
One evening, Luca approached Vincent in the library.
He held a photograph.
Catherine.
Smiling at the beach.
Vincent looked up.
“Hey, buddy.”
Luca climbed into his lap.
Then whispered:
“Mommy loved me.”
Vincent's throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Luca looked at him.
“Lots?”
Vincent smiled through tears.
“More than anything.”
The boy considered.
Then asked:
“Did she love you?”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Luca leaned against him.
“Do you still love her?”
Vincent nodded.
“Always.”
The boy was quiet.
Then whispered:
“Okay.”
Vincent kissed his hair.
May you like
For the first time, he understood that loving someone new would not erase Catherine.
And neither would remembering her prevent him from living.
