Page 117 of Discretion at Its Finest

The question felt like a knife twisting in my heart. My lips trembled. “…Mom is just gonna go grab something… I’ll be right back,” I whispered.

He blinked slow, disbelieving. He was too young to understand everything, but old enough to recognize a lie.

“When?” he breathed.

My chest collapsed. “Soon,” I managed. “Soon, baby.”

His chin wobbled, tears flooding his big blue-green eyes. And then, in the smallest, most timid and afraid voice I’d ever heard from him: “…Can… can I have a hug before you go?”

Before I could even stop myself, I dropped to my knees, my arms instinctively opening for him one last time.

He ran to me, throwing himself into my arms with more force than his little body should’ve had. His arms clung around my neck, desperate, shaking. I held him so tight I was afraid I’dbruise him, my face buried in his shoulder as sobs tore silently out of me.

“I—I don’t want you to go,” he hiccuped, his little body shaking, trembling as I held him close to me.

God, I didn’t want to let go.

“I’ll come back, Lovebug,” I whispered into his hair. “Always. I promise. Dad will be with you. You won’t be alone.”

His fingers fisted in my shirt. “I wantyouto be with me,” he cried.

My soul broke clean in two. “I know, baby,” I choked out. “I know.”

For a moment… I nearly stayed. In that second, love outweighed everything else.

But then the weight of the keys in my hand, the decision I’d silently made to leave in the first place reminded me: If I didn’t go now… I’d never go at all.

I kissed his forehead again, tasting his tears and mine mingled, my lips lingering on him one last time.

“I love you,” I whispered. “So much.”

Then slowly, painfully, I pried his little arms off my neck. He watched me stand as I wiped my face and turned to the door.

And he whispered, barely audible—

“…Mom?”

My hand froze on the doorknob. But I didn’t turn around.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

If I did…I’d never walk away.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t… do this…