Then I got dressed.
I called Selene.
She answered on the third ring. “Nick?”
“No. This is Dayna. His wife.”
Silence.
“I wondered when you’d call,” she said softly.
We met at a small café.
Selene wasn’t glamorous or smug. She looked tired. Beside her sat a boy—Luca. About twelve. Thin, quiet, watching everything.
He looked at me like I could ruin his life.
I looked back and saw a child who had done nothing wrong.
Selene told me everything.
They had known each other during a rough patch in my marriage. It ended before Luca was born. Nick sent money but rarely visited. Then he stopped completely.
“I didn’t want your marriage,” she said quietly. “I wanted my son to have a father.”
Luca stared at his untouched muffin.
“He says he’s busy,” she added.
I whispered, “He says that a lot.”
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