One afternoon, as I picked Leo up from school, his teacher, Mrs. Thomas, pulled me aside. "Oceano," she said, her voice filled with concern. "Leo's been a bit withdrawn in class lately. Have there been any changes at home?"
I felt a stab of guilt. "No, not really," I lied, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Just the usual stuff."
Her eyes searched my face, and I knew she didn't believe me. But what could I say? That my heart was torn between two worlds, and the quiet life was slowly driving me mad? That the whispers of the past had turned into a deafening roar that I was having a hard time pushing aside?
"If you ever need to talk," she offered, her hand on my arm.
"Thank you," I murmured, forcing a smile. "I will."
But as I drove home, Leo’s little hand found mine, the whispe
