His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace

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Carlos's house had become strangely quiet. No strangers lingered around anymore, and the servants, who once seemed so distant and aloof, had notably polite toward me and Cyrus.

grown

They even smiled when they saw us, which felt foreign in this place, where formality often seemed to overshadow warmth. Yet, in their small gestures, I could sense a shift-perhaps because Cyrus's health had improved, or perhaps because our time here was drawing to a close.

Cyrus, whose pallor had once concerned me deeply, was back to his usual, energetic self. His laughter filled the hallways, and with every step he took, I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders. The nightmare of his illness seemed like a distant memory now. It was time to go home.

I began gathering his things, preparing for our departure. The servants helped me pack, handling each of Cyrus's favorite toys with care, as if understanding the significance of each item. Carlos knew about our plans this time.

There were no secrets between us, no silent moves made behind his back. When dn't stop us. Instead, he had all he learned that we were preparing to leave, he of Cyrus's cherished belongings delivered to our room-every toy, every trinket, meticulously packed and ready to go. It was an unexpected kindness, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude.

Carlos before we left. His small hand tugged at Carlos's sleeve as he asked, "Can I still come over to your house to play?" There was a moment of silence, and I watched Carlos closely, waiting to see how he would respond. For the first time in a long while, I saw something different

his wide grin filling the room with

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that

casual invitation; they were a promise of continued connection. A bridge, perhaps, between the past we

to do. I wanted to say goodbye to Carlos, to thank him for everything. It wasn't easy for me to admit,

been there when I felt most powerless, when I feared losing Cyrus to his illness. He had provided us a haven, a place where I could

and asked if Carlos was available. The servant hesitated for a moment before responding, "Mr. Carlos is in an important online meeting. He doesn't

up with work or something more pressing than personal goodbyes. Still, I couldn't help but feel a sting of

a proper farewell. Before turning away, I caught a glimpse of him through the window-focused, working hard as always. His brow furrowed, his eyes glued to the screen, deep in conversation with someone on the other end. There was no space for me in that world, and I

seamless as I had hoped. But I had no choice; Cyrus needed stability, and I had to be strong for him. Every morning, I dropped him off at kindergarten, kissed his forehead, and watched him run off to play with his friends. His excitement and boundless energy were a testament

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soon as I left him, though, my thoughts shifted to what lay ahead. Today was the day I had been waiting for-the