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

Chapter 81

I imagined his concerned face, the way he would listen intently, ready to offer guidance, and I couldn't shake the feeling that my hesitation might push him

further from me.

Perhaps it was safer to keep my struggles hidden, to play the part of the composed person I wanted everyone to believe I was.

But that thought only deepened the chasm of isolation I felt, and I knew I had to make a decision soon, before the weight of my secrets became too heavy to bear.

Instead, I made my way to the kindergarten, hoping to find some comfort in talking to Vesta. The walk there was usually a pleasant one, filled with the sounds of children playing and the rustle of leaves. But today, every step felt heavy with the weight of my decisions. As I entered the kindergarten, the familiar sounds of laughter welcomed me, but I still felt heavy with uncertainty. I found Vesta in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she tidied up.

Her presence was soothing, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Watching her, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe she could help me untangle my thoughts.

"Vesta, I..." I began, but the words stuck in my throat. How could I tell her what I was feeling? The thought of confessing my inner turmoil felt daunting, like opening a floodgate of emotions I wasn't sure I was ready to face.

She looked at me, her eyes filled with understanding. "You seem troubled," she said gently. "What's on your mind?"

a moment's hesitation, I took a deep breath. "I'm about to do something bad," Ladmitted. It felt like a weight had been

Chapter 81

of quiet reassurance. "I'm sure you do everything for

warm embrace, but it didn't completely dispel my doubts. What reason could possibly justify

a group of kindergartners wandered into the kitchen, their eyes wide with curiosity. They had overheard our conversation and quickly picked

Vesta's tone.

emotion. How could I let them down? They believed

the kindergarten, but it quickly transformed into something darker. He looked at me with a cold expression, his eyes narrowing as he

see the

in his

as he turned and walked away without

his feelings? Did he think I was in danger? I wanted to call out to him, to explain that I was okay, that I needed

caught in my throat, heavy with unspoken fears. The sight of Carlos walking away, his back rigid and unyielding, felt like a physical

a vice. Had I truly misread everything between us? The moments we had shared, the laughter and the late-night conversations-were they