Noah's POV
The last notes of Oliver's lullaby fade on my tongue.
My fingers gently brush through Oliver's curls as he finally slips into sleep. His breathing has evened out, but his cheeks are still blotchy, and his eyes are red-rimmed from hours of crying.
His little face is still puffy from hours of crying, lashes clumped together with dried tears. My chest aches watching him—watching the way his tiny fingers clutch the stuffed ladybug toy Kieran gave him even in sleep, like he's afraid it'll disappear too.
Nonetheless, he looks so peaceful now. Almost angelic.
But the sound of his earlier sobs still echoes in my head.
'Kiki promised to play with me but he left.'
He's too young to understand why someone he trusted would just leave. He has no idea that Kieran only left because I told him to. Because I couldn't stand to be around him after what he did. Because he was too ashamed to look me in the eye.
