The house felt nervous and too bright.
The day had ended with William crying over a lost toy and Matthew refusing to eat his dinner.
As I tucked the covers higher under their chins, Matthew's eyes blinked open, wide and anxious.
"Are you coming back in the morning?" he whispered.
My heart clenched. "Always, sweetheart. I'll be right here when you wake up."
William rolled over, clutching his stuffed bear. For the first time, he reached out and took my hand.
But then Joshua started slipping away.
"I'll be right here when you wake up."
***
First, it was little things. He came home late.
"Tough day at work, Hanna," he'd say, avoiding my eyes.
He'd eat dinner with us, smile at the boys, but then slip away to his office before dessert. I started cleaning up alone, wiping sticky fingerprints off the fridge and listening to the muffled sound of his phone calls through the door.
When Matthew spilled his juice and William burst into tears, I was the one kneeling on the kitchen floor, whispering, "It's okay, sweetie. I've got you."
Joshua would be gone, "work emergency," he'd say, or just disappear behind the blue glow of his laptop.
First, it was little things.
One night, after another tantrum and too many peas under the table, I finally confronted him.
