The past hits

We'll see

The morning unfolded slowly, each moment feeling fragile and significant. Derek stayed in his chair, keeping his distance, respecting the unspoken boundaries Meredith had set. Ellie clung to her mother, occasionally stealing curious glances at him.

Meredith's voice broke the silence. "Ellie, do you want some breakfast?"

The little girl nodded, her curls bouncing. Meredith stood, carrying her to the kitchen. Derek followed cautiously, staying a few steps behind.

As Meredith prepared a bowl of cereal, Ellie remained on her hip, her small hands clutching her mother's shirt. Derek watched them, feeling a pang of guilt for all the mornings he'd missed.

"She likes Cheerios with bananas," Meredith said without looking at him, her voice neutral.

"Good choice," Derek said softly. "That was my favorite as a kid."

Meredith didn't respond, but Derek caught the slightest twitch of her lips—a near-smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Ellie reached for the spoon, and Meredith set her down in a booster seat at the table. She handed her the bowl and kissed the top of her head. "Eat up."

As Ellie dug into her cereal, Derek felt a rare, tender peace settle over the room. For a moment, it felt like they were a normal family. He let himself savor it, even if he knew it was temporary.

-

After breakfast, Meredith carried Ellie to the living room, where the little girl started playing with her toys. Derek lingered by the doorway, unsure of his place. Meredith's exhaustion was evident in the slump of her shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes.

"Meredith," he said quietly, stepping closer. "You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

She gave him a tired glare. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to do this alone," he continued. "Let me help. I can stay with Ellie for a while. You can rest."

Meredith's expression hardened. "You don't get to swoop in and play hero."

"I'm not trying to—"

"You weren't here when I needed you, Derek," she said, her voice rising slightly. "When Ellie was colicky, when she was sick with the flu, when she said her first word. I handled all of that on my own."

Derek's face fell. "I know. And I hate that I wasn't here. But I'm here now."

Meredith crossed her arms, her breathing uneven. "It's not that simple."

Ellie looked up from her toys, sensing the tension. "Mommy?"

Meredith immediately softened, walking over to kneel beside her. "It's okay, baby. Keep playing."

Ellie hesitated but eventually returned to her dolls. Derek stayed silent, his heart heavy. He knew he couldn't erase the past, but he was determined to be better in the present.

-

Later, after Ellie had gone down for her nap, Meredith sank into the couch, rubbing her temples. Derek sat on the edge of the chair, his hands clasped tightly.

"Meredith," he said, his voice careful. "Can we talk?"

She sighed, leaning back against the cushions. "About what?"

"About us. About how I can help."

She closed her eyes briefly, then looked at him. "You want to help? Start by being consistent. Show up when you say you will. Be there for Ellie, even when it's hard."

"I will," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

Meredith nodded but didn't look convinced. "We'll see."

Derek hesitated, then added softly, "And I want to be there for you, too."

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, her guard slipped. She looked vulnerable, lost. "I'm not your responsibility, Derek."

"You're not a responsibility," he said. "You're someone I care about."

Meredith's throat worked as she swallowed hard. "I'm trying," she said finally. "I'm trying to be okay for Ellie. But it's hard."

"I know," Derek said. "You don't have to do it alone."

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. Finally, Meredith stood, her movements deliberate.

"I need to lie down," she said. "Stay with Ellie if she wakes up."

"Of course," Derek said.

She nodded and headed to her bedroom, leaving Derek alone in the quiet house. He watched her go, his heart aching with the knowledge of how much she had endured—and how far they still had to go.