The sound of my phone buzzing pulled me from sleep. I groaned, fumbling for it on the nightstand, my vision still blurry from sleep. When I saw Greg’s name lighting up the screen, my stomach sank. What now?
Swiping the notification open, I read his message:
"I want to see Theo. When can we arrange that?"
I stared at it for a moment, confused. Since when did Greg care? He had always been more interested in himself than anyone else. During our marriage, he barely spent time with Theo—no soccer games, no bedtime stories, no lazy Saturday afternoons playing together. I couldn’t help but wonder what had suddenly sparked his interest.
Sighing, I typed back, keeping it polite:
"We’re away for the holidays. Let’s figure something out when I get back."
Not even a minute passed before his next
