Chapter 2

Lucy stared out the car window the entire ride home.

In her lap, she clutched the little gift bag from school. Inside was a half-eaten blueberry pancake and a polaroid photo from the Family Breakfast.

In the photo, every child was beaming at the camera. Except for Lucy, next to whom sat a painfully empty chair.

I kept glancing at her through the rearview mirror, but she acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, keeping her head down and playing with the ribbon on her bag.

It wasn't until we pulled up near the house that she asked softly, "Mom... is Ben feeling better today?"

My hands tightened around the steering wheel. Even now, her first thought was about someone else.

"He should be fine," I replied gently.

Lucy nodded as if relieved. "That's good then." She let out a tiny smile. "Daddy was right to stay with him today."

A sharp prickle of pain poked at my heart.

The entire drive home, I had been agonizing over how to comfort her. Yet in the end, it was an eight-year-old child comforting me instead.

Ethan arrived home at seven that evening.

The moment the front door opened, he held up a bright paper bag stamped with colorful candy designs. "Guess what I brought home!"

Lucy jumped off the sofa and trotted over.

Ethan knelt down and handed her a stuffed teddy bear. "Daddy couldn't eat breakfast with you today, so I bought you a present to make it up to you, okay?"

Lucy took the teddy bear, her eyes crinkled into sweet little crescents. "Thank you, Dad."

She hugged the bear tightly, then stood on her tiptoes to give Ethan a quick hug. "I love it."

Everything looked completely normal. If I hadn't seen her tuck that "DAD" card into her pocket earlier today, I might have actually believed that a toy could make up for a broken heart.

During dinner, Ethan couldn't stop talking about Ben.

I watched his anxious expressions, feeling a strange, hollow bitterness inside.

Three years ago, Ethan's former partner and close friend had died in a construction accident while saving Ethan's life. On his deathbed, he had entrusted his wife and son to Ethan's care.

From that day on, looking after Ava and Ben became a heavy set of shackles weighing down Ethan's soul. He felt he was atoning for a debt.

What he failed to realize was that the currency he was using to pay off that emotional debt was Lucy's childhood.

"Thank God we got him to the hospital in time. The doctor said he's out of danger now. But that poor kid held my hand the whole time, refusing to let go."

As Ethan spoke, his face carried a visible sense of relief, like someone who had just accomplished something monumental. I knew he was genuinely happy.

Lucy sat quietly, cutting her chicken into tiny bites, occasionally looking up to offer her dad a gentle smile. She didn't mention the breakfast at school, nor did she bring up the empty chair. It was as if everything from this morning had simply ceased to exist.

Ethan finally seemed to notice her. "Lucy, did you guys have fun at school today?"

Lucy nodded. "Yeah. The teacher even gave me a sticker."

"Really?" Ethan smiled warmly. "Can Daddy see it?"

"Sure."

Lucy put her fork down and ran off to her room. She quickly returned holding a small blue notebook. "Here it is."

Ethan took it, but before he could open it, his phone rang loudly.

He glanced at the screen and frowned. "It's the job site. Let me take this real quick."

Without waiting, he took the phone and hurried out onto the balcony.

The little blue notebook was left sitting quietly on the dining table.

Lucy stood there, unmoving. She just watched her father's retreating back.

After a few seconds, she reached out and pulled the notebook back into her arms. "It's okay," she murmured with a faint smile. "Daddy can look at it later."

For some reason, a heavy feeling settled in my chest. I felt like I had heard that exact phrase far too many times before.

Late that night, I walked into Lucy's room to tuck her in.

Soft moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating her small desk. The blue notebook hadn't been packed into her backpack—it was lying open under the light.

I only intended to tidy it up for her. But as I picked it up, a sticker slid out from between the pages.

It was the star sticker her teacher had given her today. Beneath the sticker was a small drawing done in crayon.

It was a picture of a single chair.

Just a solitary, lonely chair. No table, no people around it.

I froze, assuming it was just a random doodle. But when I flipped to the previous page, there was another chair. I flipped back one more page—another empty chair.

Every single page held the exact same drawing: a small, lonely, empty chair.

My breathing caught in my throat.

I didn't know what these chairs represented, but an overwhelming sense of dread suddenly gripped me.

Right then, Lucy shifted in bed, her eyes fluttering open groggily. Seeing the notebook in my hands, she sat up instantly.

"Mom..." She reached out and pulled the notebook back into her arms, her voice laced with a subtle hint of panic. "Can we... can we not show this to Dad yet?"

I was stunned. "Why, sweetie?"

Lucy lowered her head, her small fingers gently stroking the cover. It took a long time before she whispered, "Because... I want to wait until I fill up all the pages. Then I'll show him all at once."

In that dark, quiet room, a fierce, chilling premonition seized my heart.

Whatever was hidden inside this little notebook was going to break my heart far worse than I could ever imagine.