He was trying not to fall apart in front of me.
And suddenly I saw everything at once: the years he skipped new clothes because I needed school supplies, the birthdays where he pretended not to want cake so I could have a bigger slice, the nights he sat at the kitchen table pretending bills were “just paperwork,” the mornings he left before sunrise and came home after dark and still asked about my day like mine was the important one.
Then I looked at her.
At the woman who had walked away from a baby and returned for a successful man.
Something inside me settled.
