A COLD TRUTH

Eloise

The quiet hum of cartoons filled the living room as Max curled into my side, his small fingers playing with the hem of my sweatshirt. The evening sun filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the coffee table cluttered with coloured pencils, Legos, and Max’s half-finished superhero drawing.

“Mommy,” he said, tilting his head up to me, his brown eyes wide and searching. “Will Daddy come visit soon?”

I swallowed, my chest tightening around a pain I could never voice aloud. I brushed a stray curl from his forehead and kissed him softly.

“Daddy’s…busy, sweetheart. You know that.”

His mouth turned down in a pout,...