He Left Our Son Dying for the Son Who Was Never His
"His funeral is scheduled at evening. You can meet him for one last time, Harry."
"Shut up!" He groaned, "Just shut up, Darcy."
Claire placed a delicate hand on Harry’s forearm, her eyes wide with manufactured concern. "Darcy, honey, I know you’re stressed, but using Leo like this... it’s a bit much, don’t you think? Jake is getting scared."
Jake, the boy who wasn't mine, looked up from his pancakes with a confused pout. Harry immediately softened, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair, the same way he used to do to Leo before he decided Leo was 'too sickly' to be his pride.