I sigh, the sound a low, heavy defeat.
“Fine,” I mutter, the word tasting like dirt. “We can stay.”
I lead Halo back inside. He instantly sheds his backpack and runs to the living room, his gloom replaced by a childish euphoria. The evening stretches out, long and strangely quiet.
Later that night, the living room settles into a nice state of peace. Drake and Halo are knee-to-knee on a large beanbag, the small tablet glowing with the intricate pattern of their shared puzzle game. Their heads are close, their focus absolute. I watch them, a small, involuntary ache starting in my chest. The sight is a perfect, fleeting picture of domestic stability, a scene ripped from the future I once thought was mine.
I settle onto an armchair far across the room, an observer, an outsider. I am a seco
