Felicia
The children turned three this year, and they had become little people with full sentences and endless questions.
They spoke so clearly now. Their voices filled the house from morning until night. And more than anything else, they wanted to know about their father.
“Dada is far away, right Mama?” Kira asked one morning while I was brushing her hair.
“Yes, my love,” I replied gently.
“But why?” Kade asked, climbing onto my lap. “Doesn’t he love us?”
Those questions always made my chest feel tight. I hugged them close and told them the same thing I always did — that their father loved them very much, but he lived in another pack. I never spoke badly about Markus. I couldn’t bring myself to do that.
One warm afternoon, I decided to take them on a picnic by the lake. It was just
