Page 149 of Discretion at Its Finest

My lips parted, nothing coming out, not a word, not an excuse, not anything that could possibly meet the truth of that question.

He pressed further, taking a step closer to me. “Why was the choice you made not us? Not me?”

I didn’t have the words to answer him.

Because how… how was I supposed to explain something I hadn’t even forgiven myself for?

How was I supposed to tell him that when he needed me most, I wasn’t someone who could save anybody… not even myself?

How was I supposed to say the words out loud? That I chose my own survival, my own life, the path where I wasn’t swallowed whole?

That I chose the one person who made me feel like I was still alive… and that choice took me away from them?

What kind of mother admits she left because the home she was trapped in was slowly killing her? What kind of mother admits she didn’t know how to stay?

He took another step toward me, eyes burning, demanding the truth I didn’t know how to give.

“Eugene…” My voice cracked.

“Did you ever plan to come back for us? Even once?”

“…If I told you I left because I needed to be safe… because I didn’t know how to fight back anymore… because I didn’t know who I was anymore—” My breath hitched. “—you’d think I was choosing myself over you. And I’ve spent years trying not to think that too.”

He swallowed hard, the first crack in his expression.

“And if I told you,” I whispered, voice shaking on a tremble, “that I left because I was breaking, because I was… afraid… because I thought you’d be safer if I disappeared… how do those words sound to a child who waited at the door for me?” I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “They sound unforgivable. Theyareunforgivable. But it’s the truth.”

I let him sit with the words for a moment as he fell silent. “So that’s it?” he whispered. “You were scared? And that means you just… left?”

“Eugene—”

“No.” His hand slammed the counter behind him, the sound cracking through the quiet kitchen, making me flinch. “No, you don’t get to say that and expect me to understand.”

He took another step toward me. “You chose to run,” he seethed. “And I had to stay. I had to survive that house. I had to survivehim. I had to grow up without a mother because you were—” His voice broke, the word shattering in his throat. “—tired?”

Tears blurred my vision. “It wasn’t like that—”

“Then how was it?!” he snapped. “Because all I can remember is holding Brielle when she cried. All I remember is biting my tongue when they treated us differently, waiting up every single night until I fell asleep because you said you would come back—” he raged—then suddenly, his voice cracked completely. “And you didn’t… You… left me,” he whispered.

The quiet was somehow worse than his anger.

His eyes lifted to mine, broken and wounded before they lowered, his knees dropping to the ground. I scrambled to the floor, motherly instincts taking over like they never left. My hands found the sides of his face, holding up his sunken head as he cried.

“…You were my whole world,” he whispered into the air.

My throat closed as I shook my head. “Eugene, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“You left me. I was just a little boy, and you left me.”

He grabbed onto my wrists, and my heart lurched out of my chest, thinking he’d push me away, reject me again, but he just held them. His fingers trembled against my skin, calloused palms warm and shaking as if even touching me hurt.

“You were my mom,” he whispered, the words collapsing into a sob that ripped straight through the center of me.

Before I could breathe, another broken sound tore out of him, small, helpless, nothing like the man standing in front of me now.

He leaned forward, head dropping, forehead brushing my shoulder, and I froze.

My body was in complete shock.