0006: He is a Mistake

ALICE’S POV

I should have taken Lucian home.

I should have picked him up, carried him away from this festival of false joy and false hope, and tucked him into bed with a story, a kiss, and a promise that tomorrow would be better.

But I didn’t. Because Lucian wanted to see the fireworks. And I couldn’t deny him anything anymore.

So we stayed.

The fireworks were beautiful—explosions of gold, silver, and blue lighting up the dark sky, reflecting in Lucian’s eyes as he stared upward. He didn’t cheer like the other children. He didn’t clap or gasp or point. He just watched, silent and still, his expression unreadable.

“Lucian? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer.

The crowd began to disperse as the fireworks ended. I looked around for Benjamin, but he was nowhere to be found. Still with Lisa, probably. Still with his real family.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go home.”

“I want to wait for Daddy.”

“Lucian—”

“Please, Mommy? You said he promised. You said he would be here.”

The hope in his voice was the cruelest thing I’d ever heard.

We waited.

He found us when the grounds were nearly empty. His shirt was untucked, and the faint smell of wine reached me before his footsteps did. He stopped when he saw us, and there it was—genuine surprise. The kind that meant he had genuinely forgotten.

“You’re still here?”

“You told us to wait,” I said. “Lucian wanted to see you.”

He looked at our son, then looked away.

“I got held up.”

“I know.” I reached for Lucian’s hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go home.”

The drive home was silent. Lucian fell asleep against the window, his cheek pressed to the glass, tear tracks drying on his face before I could wipe them away.

I watched him in the rearview mirror.

Laundry still on the line. Lucian’s nebulizer needed cleaning. The healer’s appointment on Thursday—I still had to confirm it. Still had to call.

The endless list moved through me like water through a dry riverbed. It was the only reason I kept moving.

He stirred when I laid him down. His small hand caught my sleeve before I could step back.

“Mommy?” His voice was thick with sleep and the tears he’d cried quietly so I wouldn’t see. “Does Daddy really love us?”

I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Of course he does, baby.”

“Then why does he always believe the mean lady?” His eyes held mine, far too serious for a child his age. “Why does he never believe us?”

I didn’t have an answer.

I left the door open a crack so the hallway light could reach him.

Benjamin was still in the living room when I entered. He stood by the window, staring out at the moon.

“He finally fell asleep,” I said quietly. “You can go now. Back to Lisa. Back to whatever you consider more important than your dying son.”

Benjamin turned. His expression was harder than I’d ever seen it.

“I regret this.”

“What?”

“This arrangement. This… bargain. It was a mistake.” He shook his head. “Every time I try to do what you want, it just creates more problems. More drama. More trouble.”

“Trouble?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You think your son asking you to believe him is trouble?”

“What happened at the festival was completely avoidable. If you hadn’t antagonized Lisa—”

“I didn’t antagonize her. She approached me. She insulted me. She insulted our son.”

“That’s not what she said.”

“Of course it’s not what she said!” I was shouting now, months of suppressed rage finally boiling over. “Lisa lies, Benjamin! She’s been lying since the day she came back, and you’re so blinded by your obsession with her that you can’t even see it!”

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Or what? You’ll leave?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “You’re already leaving. You’ve always been leaving.”

Benjamin’s jaw tightened. “Lisa has never done anything to you. You’re just jealous because she’s everything you’re not.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. I staggered back a step.

“Is that really what you think?”

“I think you trapped me into a marriage I never wanted. I think you used my worst moment against me. I think you’ve spent four years trying to keep me from the woman I actually love. So yes—that’s what I think.”

“And Lucian?” My voice was barely a whisper. “What do you think about him?”

Benjamin was silent.

“He’s your son,” I said. “He’s your son, Benjamin. Whatever you think of me, whatever you believe about that night—Lucian is innocent. He didn’t ask to be born. He didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I never wanted this child.”

“I never wanted him,” Benjamin continued, his voice cold and flat. “He was a mistake. Everything that started that night was a mistake. I should never have—”

He stopped abruptly.

I knew why.

Even before I turned around, I knew what I would see.

Lucian stood in the doorway, his face ghostly white. His eyes were wide with shock, and his small hands trembled at his sides.

“Daddy?”

Benjamin’s face went pale. “Lucian, I didn’t—”

“You don’t want me?”

“Lucian, wait—”

But Lucian was already running. He bolted out the front door into the night, his small form quickly swallowed by the darkness.

“Lucian!”