Chapter 2

Arthur came home carrying two gift bags.

One was small and pale blue. The other was large enough to hold a winter coat.

He placed the smaller one in front of Sophie.

“I heard your reading went well,” he said. “Dad is sorry he missed it.”

Sophie looked at the bag but did not reach for it.

Arthur pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a set of expensive pens.

“We can start a new book,” he said, forcing a hopeful smile. “No more sad pages.”

For years, this was how the cycle ended. Arthur missed something, bought a gift, made another promise, and waited for me to persuade Sophie that love meant forgiving him.

This time, I said nothing.

Sophie pushed the notebook back across the table.

“I already have a book.”

Arthur glanced at Dad and Me near her elbow. “That one is full of unhappy memories.”

“They’re still my memories.”

His smile faltered.

“Sweetheart, yesterday was complicated. Leo was frightened, and Serena needed help.”

“Was he in the hospital?” Sophie asked.

Arthur paused.

“The school nurse thought he had fainted, but he felt better by the time I arrived.”

“So you took him to the park.”

“He had been scared. Serena thought fresh air would calm him down.”

Sophie nodded as if he had confirmed something she already knew.

Then she picked up her journal and left the kitchen.

Arthur turned on me the moment she disappeared upstairs.

“You showed her Serena’s post.”

“Serena posted it publicly.”

“You didn’t have to make Sophie feel worse.”

“You did that when you left.”

He stared at me, genuinely offended that I had refused to absorb the blame for him.

“She’s eight, Elena. She’ll forgive me. But not if you keep encouraging this attitude.”

In the past, I would have lowered my voice. I would have reminded him of the school events he had missed and begged him to spend one uninterrupted afternoon with his daughter.

Instead, I opened the contact page for the attorney I had found the night before.

“This isn’t an attitude,” I said. “It’s what happens when a child stops believing you.”

The doorbell rang before he could answer.

Arthur’s expression changed.

Not surprise. Expectation.

He crossed the hall and opened the front door.

Serena stood on the porch with Leo beside her and two suitcases at their feet.

“What is this?” I asked.

Arthur did not look at me.

“There’s mold in Serena’s apartment. Leo has been coughing. They need somewhere safe for a few days.”

“And you invited them to live here without asking me?”

“It’s temporary.”

Serena gave me a small, apologetic smile that never reached her eyes.

“I told Arthur we could find a hotel, but he insisted. Leo has had such a difficult week.”

Arthur lifted the larger gift bag from the kitchen counter and handed it to Leo.

“Happy early birthday, buddy.”

Leo tore it open. Inside was the illustrated art set Sophie had asked for three months ago.

Sophie had come halfway down the stairs. She saw the gift in Leo’s hands, then looked at the unopened notebook still sitting on the kitchen table.

Arthur followed her gaze.

“Sophie, don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

She did not argue.

She only held her journal against her chest and walked back upstairs.

Serena rolled one suitcase across the threshold.

The wheels struck the floor with a hard, final sound.

For fifty-three promises, Arthur had chosen them outside our home.

Now he was bringing his choice inside it.