Chapter 7 - A Mother's Gaze
Elena watched the exchange from the doorway, holding two cardboard cups of tea. She stayed motionless, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, letting the moment breathe.
For four years, she had watched Marcus slowly withdraw into the corporate stratosphere. When they first married, he was an energetic architect who sketched park designs on paper napkins; over the years, venture capital had turned him into an impenetrable wall. She had begun to mourn their marriage long before the taxi hit their son.
Now, looking at Marcus—his shirt sleeves rolled up, dark circles under his eyes, carefully demonstrating how the repaired plastic scoop could lift an imaginary rock on the bedsheets—she saw the ghost of the man she had fallen in love with.
Marcus looked up and met her gaze. He didn't offer a cocky smile or an excuse. He just looked at her with humility.
Elena walked in, setting a cup on his table. She rested her hand gently on his shoulder. It was the first time she had touched him affectionately in six months. Marcus reached up, covering her fingers with his own, pressing her palm against his skin.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Don't thank me," he replied quietly. "I'm just doing the homework I should have started years ago."
May you like
Toby yawned, driving the excavator along the crease of the bedsheet. "Dad? Tomorrow, will you show me how you made the glue stay?"
Marcus smiled, a real, unforced expression that chased away the stern lines on his forehead. "First thing after breakfast, buddy."
