CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 2
“We came to keep her company,” my mother said.
The sentence hung in the kitchen like smoke.
Lauren looked down.
That small movement made something in my chest turn cold.
My wife was ashamed.
Not because she had done anything wrong.
Because she had been left alone so completely that being seen felt like failure.
Noah coughed against her shoulder, a weak, tired sound that made my whole body go still.
I stepped forward.
“Why is she cooking?”
Patricia sighed.
“Ethan, don’t start the minute you walk in.”
“Why is my wife cooking while holding our sick son?”
Melissa rolled her eyes.
“Mom told her to sit down like a hundred times.”
Lauren’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
I looked at her.
“Lauren?”
She swallowed.
“I tried to sit down. He kept crying when I put him down. And your mom said soup would help, so I thought—”
Her voice broke.
My mother cut in.
“She’s being dramatic. Children get fevers. You know how new mothers are.”
Lauren’s eyes filled.
New mother.
Noah was two years old.
My mother still spoke about Lauren like she was a temporary employee who had not learned the household rules.
I set my suitcase by the door.
Not loudly.
Not enough to scare Noah.
But with enough weight that both women finally understood I was not brushing this off.
“Pack your things,” I said.
Patricia blinked.
“What?”
“You and Melissa. Pack your things.”
Melissa sat straighter.
“Are you serious?”
I looked at the dishes piled in the sink, the toys scattered near the living room, the cold coffee cup beside Lauren’s untouched plate.
May you like
Then I looked at my mother.
“I have never been more serious.”
