Rena’s POV
The moment Noah spots his parents, any thought of staying with us disappears. He barely spares me a glance before running to his mother, chattering excitedly about his weekend.
I should feel relieved. And part of me is—I woke up at least three times last night, startled by tiny elbows jabbing into my ribs. Sleeping without that particular hazard should be a blessing.
But there’s another part of me, quieter but heavier, that isn’t ready to let him go.
It’s foolish, really. It was just a weekend. Just a couple of days. But somewhere between chasing after him, making sure he ate his vegetables, and tucking him in at night, I started to feel something dangerous. Like we were ours. A little family.
Don’t do this to yourself. The voice in my head is sharp, cutting through the war
