Chapter 2

The next afternoon, I took Ethan to his school's Family Science Challenge alone.

Before the event started, he kept glancing toward the auditorium doors. Even when his teacher called his name, the seat we had saved for Damian was still empty.

Ethan said nothing. He only lowered his head and walked onto the stage.

He had spent two weeks building a water-cycle model. When the results were announced, he won first place in his grade. His teacher congratulated him, his classmates gathered around, and Ethan ran back to me with the medal in his hand.

Then he looked toward the entrance again.

"Mom, is Dad not coming?"

I didn't know how to answer.

On the drive home, he stayed quiet before asking, "What about tonight? Is he coming to my birthday dinner?"

Since Ethan was born, Damian had missed almost every school event. Birthdays, parent days, holiday performances—whenever a father was supposed to be there, it was always just me.

But today was his seventh birthday.

I still couldn't bring myself to take away the last bit of hope he had left.

When we got home, I sent Damian several messages.

Ethan waited for you all afternoon.

You missed his school event. At least come home for dinner tonight.

A long time passed before he finally replied.

I'll be there tonight.

I read the message twice before showing Ethan.

"Dad said he's coming."

His whole face lit up.

"Really?"

"Really."

Because Damian had never properly celebrated a birthday with him, Ethan spent the afternoon preparing. He insisted we serve Damian's favorite steak and roasted vegetables, and even saved the biggest slice of chocolate cake for him.

He wasn't allowed to call Damian Dad in public, yet he remembered every one of his father's preferences.

Seven o'clock came.

Damian didn't.

Eight o'clock passed.

Still nothing.

Ethan sat by the window, then curled up on the sofa, lifting his head whenever a car passed outside.

I called Damian. No answer. My messages went unanswered too.

By ten-thirty, Ethan was fighting sleep. It was almost eleven when he finally got off the sofa.

"Mom, let's stop waiting."

"Do you want to wait a little longer?"

He shook his head.

"I don't want to anymore."

His voice was quiet, but the disappointment in his eyes was impossible to miss.

That night, it was just the two of us at the dining table. I relit the candles, sang happy birthday, and watched Ethan close his eyes to make a wish.

I didn't ask what he wished for.

After he blew out the candles, neither of us mentioned Damian again.

When Ethan was asleep, I picked up my phone.

Sofia had just posted an Instagram Story.

Best birthday surprise.

It was her birthday too.

The photo showed white roses, an open jewelry box, and a man kneeling in front of her as he slipped a ring onto her finger.

His face wasn't visible.

I recognized Damian immediately.

What held my attention was the emerald ring on Sofia's hand.

It was an old Caruso family heirloom.

Years ago, not long after Damian and I married, I had seen it in the safe and foolishly asked if I could wear it someday. I thought owning something that belonged to the Caruso family might make me feel more like his wife.

Damian had only said, "That isn't for you."

I never asked again.

Now it was on Sofia's hand.

Someone had commented:

Should we be expecting an announcement soon?

Sofia answered with a heart emoji.

That was when I understood.

Ethan and Sofia shared the same birthday.

Damian hadn't forgotten.

He knew his son had turned seven today.

He had simply decided which birthday mattered more.

I stared at the picture, then closed the app and removed Sofia from my contacts.

The familiar ache in my chest was still there, but it no longer felt sharp.

Maybe after enough disappointment, even pain became dull.

Damian had spent years helping his clients walk away from broken marriages. As one of New York's most successful divorce lawyers, he always knew when a relationship could no longer be saved.

He just hadn't realized that his own marriage had already reached that point.

The next morning, the sound of the front door woke me.

Damian was home.

When I came downstairs, he was standing beside the dining table, looking at the remains of Ethan's birthday cake.

He turned when he heard me.

"Something came up with a client last night. It was late by the time I finished, so I didn't come back."

His tone was casual, as if he had missed an ordinary dinner.

I had called again and again. If he had wanted to come, he could at least have told Ethan he wouldn't make it.

But there was no reason to ask anymore.

"I know."

I took a folder from the drawer.

Inside were a temporary parenting agreement and Damian's written consent allowing me to relocate with Ethan out of state.

The divorce agreement I had signed the night before remained hidden beneath them.

Damian would see it soon enough.

I turned to the final page and placed the documents in front of Damian.

Then I pointed to the signature line.

"Sign here."