My stomach twisted.
Folded neatly beside her was a piece of paper—Jess’s handwriting.
Callum,
I’m sorry. I can’t stay anymore.
Please take care of our Evie. I made a promise to your mom, and I had to keep it. Ask her.
—J.
When I’d left earlier, the house had been full of sound.
Jess stood at the counter, hair pinned up, a smear of chocolate frosting on her cheek, humming off-key to the radio while she decorated Evie’s birthday cake. It was dark, uneven, and perfect—exactly what our daughter had asked for.
“Don’t forget,” she called over her shoulder, “she wants the one with the glittery wings.”
“I’ve got it,” I replied from the doorway. “One giant, obnoxiously sparkly doll. Mission accomplished.”
She laughed—but there was something missing in it. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Evie sat at the table, duck tucked under one arm, crayon clutched in the other, humming along with her mom. She looked up at me, tilted her head, and grinned.
“Daddy, make sure she has real wings!”
“I’d never let you down, baby girl,” I said, tapping my leg to wake it before heading for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
It all felt so ordinary. Familiar. Safe.
The kind of normal that only exists right before everything breaks.
**
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