On my son’s first day of school, the teacher called him by a name I’d never heard. And… he responded. The husband didn’t flinch. That moment ruined everything I thought was safe.
I woke up before everyone else.It was still dark outside, but I was already standing in the kitchen, trying to smooth the stubborn creases in Lucas’s brand-new shirt. His very first school shirt. He was starting first grade that day.
I wanted everything to be perfect. Even if our life was anything but.My husband, Travis, had fallen asleep on the couch again. The TV was still on (some ESPN replay humming in the background), and an empty beer can had rolled under the coffee table.
I stepped around his shoes, nearly tripping.
“Travis? Get up. It’s school day today.”
He mumbled something without opening his eyes.After ten years of marriage, I’d learned not to expect too much.Lucas had been dreaming about that day all summer. He wanted all three of us to go. To show Daddy where he’d sit, to take pictures, to go out for ice cream afterward.
“Mom, Daddy’s coming with us, right?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll go wake him up. You get ready.”For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
So I had a mission that morning: to get both of them dressed and standing on either side of me. For Lucas.Honestly? It would be easier without Travis.
But I tried. Leaned over the couch and asked again.
“Are you coming with us or not?”Travis rolled into the pillow, eyes still half-shut. “I’ll drive over. Later.”“I said I will. Just get off my back.”
He lazily waved his hand like I was a buzzing mosquito.
Something had shifted in him over the past few months. He’d grown distant. He came home late, barely spoke, and slept on the couch more often than in our bed. I tried to talk. Travis brushed me off.That morning, I felt it more than ever. Kind of creeping anxiety I couldn’t explain. You know the kind, that quiet alarm that rings just before something goes wrong.And that morning… My gut didn’t lie.
***
The sun was already high when we arrived at the school. Lucas looked like a miniature man in his little backpack, trying to be brave.I held his hand all the way from the car, barely keeping my own emotions in check.That was supposed to be OUR moment. All three of us. But Travis hadn’t shown up.
No calls. No messages. Just a lazy text an hour earlier:
“I’ll try to make it. Might be late.”
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