Tedd didn't go home that night.
Instead, he drove.
No destination, no direction. Just long highways, low hums of the engine, and the noise in his head too loud to silence.
He ended up in Isabela, at his parents' farm, long after midnight.
The front porch light was still on, as always—his father never went to bed until both his sons were accounted for, no matter how old they got.
Tedd parked and stayed in the car for a full minute, gripping the steering wheel like it might keep him grounded.
But it didn't.
Nothing had, since Jaimie told him to leave.
His mother was the one who opened the door.
She took one look at him and stepped aside.
"You look like you fought a hurricane," she said.
"I lost," he muttered.
She didn't ask for details. She just guided him into the living room where the soft hum of the electric fan filled the silence.
Max was already up the stairs when he heard the familiar voice.
"Papa?"
Tedd turned just as his son bolted down the steps in oversized pajamas and bare feet.
"Hey, buddy."
Max threw his arms around him like a lifeline.
"I missed you."
"I missed you more."
It was the only thing that felt right in days.
Later that morning, as Max played in the front yard with a stick and two dogs pretending to be dinosaurs, Tedd sat across from his parents on the old narra bench in the shade of a mango tree.
He hadn't touched his coffee.
"I messed up," he said, eyes on the grass.
"Again?" his father said, raising a brow.
Tedd nodded, lips pressed tight.
"I punched Dominic."
His mother nearly dropped her cup. "You what?!"
"I thought he was trying to take Jaimie from me. I saw him holding her hand."
"Was he?" his father asked calmly.
"No," Tedd admitted. "I don't know. I just... reacted."
"Out of fear?" his mom pressed.
Tedd didn't answer.
She leaned forward, her voice softening.
"Son, love isn't about who punches harder. It's about who listens better."
His father grunted, "And who apologizes like a man when he acts like a boy."
That part stung.
But it was true.
Tedd leaned back, hands on his face.
"She was right to kick me out," he murmured. "She trusted me once, and I left her. I said I'd earn it back. I said I'd never break her again. But I did."
"She's angry," his mother said. "But she's not stone. She's been hurt too long to fall for words, Tedd. She wants to see if your love still stands when she's no longer easy to love."
He looked over at Max, who was now pretending to ride one of the dogs like a horse.
"That boy calls me Papa," Tedd whispered. "And I don't even know if I deserve that title anymore."
His father's voice came firm.
"Then start acting like you do."
That night, Tedd sat beside Max on the bamboo bench outside, watching stars come to life.
"Papa," Max said, curling close. "Is Mommy mad at you?"
Tedd swallowed hard.
"Yeah. She is."
"Did you break her heart?"
Tedd blinked.
"...I think I did."
Max looked up at him with wide, serious eyes.
"You have to fix it then. You said you can fix anything, right? Like my T-rex when the tail broke."
Tedd smiled, painfully.
"This one's a little harder, buddy."
"But you'll try?"
Tedd nodded slowly.
"I'll try. Every day, if I have to."
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