The passageway stretched ahead of them, long and hushed, its polished floor reflecting the muted ceiling lights. Their footsteps sounded restrained, as though the house itself discouraged noise in this part of the wing. Monica noticed how Logan slowed as they walked, not from hesitation, but intention. This was not a corridor one rushed through.
At the end stood a white door trimmed in blue.
Logan stopped there, his hand resting briefly against the frame, his expression unreadable. "This," he said quietly, "is where he decides."
Whether he meant Theo or himself, Monica couldn't be sure.
He knocked once and opened the door.
The low murmur of narration reached them first. On an iPad screen, wild cats moved across an open savannah sleek bodies gliding through tall grass, every motion deliberate. Nat Geo Wild. The narrator spoke calmly about patience, about how survival favored those who knew when to wait.
Theo sat on the bed, one knee bent, the iPad resting lightly in his hands. The blue-and-white walls framed him in cool calm, the space tidy but lived-in. A large world map lay open on the table nearby, its edges weighed down beside carefully assembled robotic toys neither abandoned nor actively played with, simply paused.
"Dad," Theo said, glancing up. His voice carried no surprise. "You're back."
Logan's posture eased, just slightly. "I am."
He stepped fully into the room, then shifted aside so Monica was visible.
"And we have company," Logan added.
Theo's gaze followed, settling on Monica. Recognition flickered there, nothing else, just memory.
"Hello again," Theo said. "Hi."
"Hello, Theo," Monica replied.
She kept her tone even, respectful. No eagerness. No distance.
Logan closed the door partway but remained inside, hands folding behind his back in a familiar, disciplined stance. He surveyed the room as if for the first time, though Monica sensed he knew every detail already.
"You're still watching it," Logan observed, as he walked to his son and sat beside him
Theo nodded, eyes briefly returning to the screen where lions crouched low. "They haven't caught anything yet."
Logan huffed softly. "That figures."
He turned to Monica then, his gaze sharp, assessing. "You don't interrupt him when he's watching."
It wasn't framed as a question.
"No," Monica said. "I wouldn't."
Logan held her gaze a moment longer. Respect for boundaries.
Theo adjusted his grip on the iPad, his attention drifting easily between the screen and the conversation. He was listening without inserting himself, a habit clearly learned.
"You were here yesterday," Logan continued. "When I wasn't."
"Yes."
"You didn't take advantage of that."
"No."
Silence settled, thick but controlled.
Theo glanced up. "She mostly listened."
Logan turned to his son. "Mostly?"
Theo shrugged lightly. "She answered when I asked."
Logan's eyes returned to Monica. "You let him lead."
"That felt right."
authority without dominance.
Logan inclined his head, almost imperceptibly.
He gestured toward the chair by the table. "Sit."
Monica did, smoothly, without asking permission or rushing. She placed herself carefully, neither shrinking nor claiming space that wasn't offered.
On the screen, cheetahs now appeared, muscles coiled, bodies still.
Logan leaned back against the table, closer to his son. "What are they doing now?"
"Waiting," Theo replied. "If they rush, they miss."
Logan smiled faintly. "You remember that."
"I always do."
A quiet moment passed between them familiar, practiced, unspoken. Monica felt it then: the ease of long trust, of lessons taught without words.
Logan turned back to her. "Do you have children?"
"No."
"Do you pretend to know better than those who do?"
"No."
humility.
Theo shifted closer to his father, shoulder nearly brushing Logan's arm, still holding the iPad. Logan's hand came down briefly, resting against his son's shoulder ,protective, grounding. The gesture was unconscious.
"He doesn't like being corrected in front of others," Logan said evenly. "And he doesn't like being lied to."
"I won't do either."
Theo looked at her then. Not curious. Not guarded.
Accepting.
Logan met her gaze fully now, his presence filling the room. Endurance. Could she remain steady under scrutiny? Could she stand without defensiveness, without performance?
She did.
At last, Logan straightened. "Alright."
He glanced at his son. "You good?"
Theo nodded once. "She's calm."
Logan exhaled, slow and controlled. Something in him loosened.
"Stay with your show," he said. "I'll be in the office."
"Are you very busy." Theo asked looking up at his Father. Logan's eyes in turn softened further.
Taking the initiative he bent down and rubbed Theo hair the way you would a child's hair. "Just need to handle a few more things" he said reassuring him.
Theo didn't believe him. He knew his Father well, however, he nodded, his calm eyes dropping into a smiles as he stared at Logan.
Theo leaned back against the pillows, eyes returning to the moving cats.
As Logan opened the door, he paused, looking once more at Monica. Eyes quiet with acknowledgment.
She hadn't passed Theo.
She had passed him.
And that, Monica understood, was the harder trial.