Elena’s POV
Sometimes the hardest part of being a mom wasn’t answering the tough questions—it was pretending you had the answers in the first place.
Jack lay curled under his blanket, eyes heavy but still searching mine like I could hand him all the secrets of the world. My throat was still sore from reading the bedtime story, but his soft little voice broke me wide open.
“Mommy,” he whispered, “I don’t need a dad. I have you. And Aunty Mari. My friends don’t have an Aunty Mari.”
Something in my chest splintered, equal parts pride and guilt.
I smoothed back his messy hair and tried to smile. “You’re right. Aunty Mari’s one of a kind. Just don’t tell her I said that, or she’ll start charging us for her services.”
He giggled, muffled against his stuffed bunny.
But then
