“Every birthday, I cried for my son.”
Marcus looked away.
“Every Christmas, I wrapped presents he never opened.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I searched every face in every crowd because I hoped I’d see him again.”
His jaw tightened.
“You watched me suffer.”
He didn’t answer.
“You watched me blame myself.”
Still nothing.
“And every single time I cried, you told me to let him go.”
Andrew remained quiet beside me. He didn’t need to say anything; the truth was already standing between us.
Marcus finally sighed.
“I thought it would get easier.”
My head snapped toward him.
“What?”
“For you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“I thought once enough time passed, you’d stop dwelling on him.”
“Dwelling on him?”
My voice rose.
“He’s my son.”
“He made his choice.”
“No.” I stepped closer until we were almost face-to-face. “You made it for him.”
