I kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to give him something I couldn’t fully name.
The next few days unfolded in a quiet rhythm, but nothing quite returned to the way it had been before Thursday.
Brenda didn’t call again, and for the first time since I had known her, her absence felt intentional rather than coincidental.
Mark didn’t mention her either, but I noticed the way his phone stayed face down on the table, untouched, as if he had already decided something without saying it.
Leo returned to kindergarten, his new haircut drawing attention from other children, some curious, some unkind in the casual way children can be.
He handled it better than I expected, but each evening, he seemed a little quieter, a little more thoughtful, like he was still adjusting to something unseen.
One afternoon, I found him sitting beside Lily, showing her a drawing he had made, two figures standing side by side, one with long curls, one without.
“That’s before,” he said, pointing to the figure with curls, then to the other, “and that’s now.”
Lily looked at it carefully, then reached out and traced the curls with her finger, her expression thoughtful but calm.
“You still kept your promise,” she said softly, and I felt something tighten in my chest as Leo looked at her, searching her face.
“Even without the curls?” he asked, his voice uncertain in a way that revealed more than he likely realized.
