As the days drifted on from the picnic, Calix remained captivated by the memory, bringing it up whenever he could. And for each time he did, my heart tightened a little more, caught between his innocence and the complicated truth about his father’s relationship with me.
Until one evening, as I tucked him into bed, Calix’s bright eyes looked up at me, full of hope. “Mommy, when will we go on a picnic with Dad again?” he asked, his voice small but filled with anticipation.
A painful twist settled in my chest. I forced a gentle smile, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “We’ll see, sweetheart. Let’s not worry about it now. Close your eyes and get some rest.”
He nodded, a little disappointed but too sleepy to resist. Soon, his breathing softened, and I watched him a moment longer, fe
