Nayana
I watch them from the couch, where I’m curled into the corner with a pillow hugged loosely to my chest. Leo sits cross–legged on the carpet while Max kneels beside him, the two of them bent over a messy game of bricks they’ve been building and destroying for almost an hour now.
Max is laughing so loudly his voice echoes across the wide living room, and Leo is smiling. My husband is actually smiling. He’s pretending to be annoyed anytime Max makes a move he doesn’t like, but the boy just sticks out his tongue and says, “You can’t win all the time, Leo!”
Leo’s responding growl only makes Max giggle harder. Watching them like this is so wholesome. A tear slips quietly down my cheek before I even realize it’s there.
I wipe it, but more follow. I can’t deny it anymore. I’m hopelessly
