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His Wife, His Mistake
Chapter Seventeen: I See Everything
POV: Liam
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I know something's wrong with Mummy.
She thinks I don't notice.
She still smiles when she makes pancakes, still ties my shoes the way I like, still hugs me every night before bed.
But the smile doesn't reach her eyes anymore.
Her hands shake when she thinks I'm not looking.
And sometimes, she stares at nothing for a really long time, like she's somewhere far, far away.
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It started a few weeks ago.
When the man stopped coming.
The man with the books.
My… my dad.
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I know he's my dad.
Nobody told me.
But I just… know.
I knew from the way he looked at me. Like he wanted to say something important every time but couldn't.
And Mummy — she never said it either. But when he was around, her eyes were louder than her words.
They were mad. And sad. And scared.
All at once.
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I liked him.
I liked how he brought books that smelled like old libraries and chocolate.
I liked how he sat outside the gallery even when it rained a little.
I liked how he always looked at Mummy like she mattered more than the whole world.
But now he's gone.
And Mummy… Mummy is different.
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She sleeps with the light on sometimes now.
She doesn't play music in the kitchen anymore.
She hasn't painted a new picture in days.
She talks to me, but it's like her words are wrapped in glass. Like if she says too much, she might break.
I wish I could fix it.
I wish I knew how.
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Miriam came over the other day and brought pie.
They whispered in the kitchen.
I hid behind the door and listened.
"She's not eating," Miriam said. "She's going through the motions, but Arya's not really here, you know?"
"She's grieving," she added, quieter. "Even if she doesn't want to admit it."
Grieving?
I thought grieving was only for people who died.
But maybe Mummy's grieving something else.
Someone else.
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At school, when we learned about feelings, Miss Lora said sometimes people pretend to be okay when they're not.
That's what Mummy's doing.
Pretending.
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One night, I saw her holding a sweater.
It wasn't hers.
It was gray and too big and kind of smelled like the man who used to wait outside.
She didn't know I was watching.
She hugged it really tight.
Then she sat on the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and stared at the wall for a long time.
I didn't know what to say.
So I just went back to bed.
But my chest felt funny.
Like it wanted to cry even if my eyes didn't.
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I don't blame her.
I don't.
I don't know everything about what happened before I was born, but I know enough to feel it.
Mummy's been hurt.
Badly.
And I think my dad — Damon — had something to do with that.
But I also think he's been trying to fix it.
And I think Mummy's heart doesn't know whether to believe him.
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One morning, I found a paper tucked inside one of my books.
It was folded funny, like a secret.
I opened it slowly.
The handwriting was messy but nice.
It said:
"To Liam —
I know I've missed a lot.
I know I don't deserve your love yet.
But if you ever wonder if I care about you…
The answer is yes. Every second, yes.
— Dad."
My heart did a weird jump.
I folded it back and didn't tell Mummy.
Not yet.
Because something about it felt… special.
Private.
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I kept the letter under my pillow.
Sometimes I read it before bed.
It doesn't make everything better.
But it makes me feel less… forgotten.
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I wonder if Mummy feels forgotten too.
By him.
By the world.
By everything she gave up to raise me all by herself.
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I wanted to tell her one night.
That I knew he was gone.
That I missed him too.
That I saw her hurting even if she pretended not to.
But when I walked into her room, she was sitting by the window.
Hands in her lap.
Eyes red.
She looked so… tired.
So I just walked up and hugged her really tight.
"I love you, Mummy," I said.
She didn't answer for a second.
Then her arms wrapped around me so hard I could barely breathe.
"I love you too," she whispered into my hair. "So, so much."
And I knew she meant it.
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But love doesn't stop pain.
I wish it did.
I wish hugs could glue hearts back together.
But maybe… maybe they just help them beat a little longer.
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I still think about my dad.
Every day.
I wonder where he is.
If he thinks about me too.
If he'll ever come back.
And I wonder if Mummy will ever let him.
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But for now, I'll just keep being the best son I can be.
Because Mummy needs someone.
And even if I'm little, I can be her someone.
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