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Dad gives me a reassuring squeeze before leaving, allowing me the space to breathe, to gather myself.
Slowly I get to my feet, gripping the sink. My legs are made of jelly, weak, ready to collapse at the slightest touch.
I splash cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the despair, but the reflection staring back at me is bleak—red, blotchy skin, and puffy eyes. I drag a brush through my hair, swipe on some foundation, and dab eye drops into my swollen eyes. It’s a feeble attempt at looking put-together, but it’s all I have.
I draw in a shaky breath, forcing myself to stand tall.
Be strong for Leo.
You can do this.
With my shoulders drawn back, I walk into the living room. James shifts on his feet, running a hand through his hair, his eyes flicking to the stern-faced woman beside him. She stands to his left, clipboard in hand, watching with a cool detachment. The social worker’s presence makes everything feel more real, more formal. My world is now under someone else’s scrutiny.
My eyes meet James’s and I see it: Guilt. Regret. His eyes flash with it before they harden, his expression shifting back to the cold mask he’s been wearing lately. But seeing his regret doesn’t soften the pain—it makes it worse. I bite down hard on my lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. How dare he stand there and feel guilty about what he’s about to take from me?
James steps closer, his hand reaching out like he’s about to touch me, but then stops, glancing over his shoulder at the social worker, and pulls away at the last second.
I take a step back, arms wrapped tightly around myself, needing space. Needing air.
Don’t,I mouth.
He flinches. “Cora—”
I shake my head, looking down.
“Momma! Look! Uncle James is here!” Leo’s voice breaks through, his excitement pure and innocent. He’s holding his little backpack, smiling up at me, completely unaware of the emotional war waging in the room.
Crouching down to Leo’s level, I steady my voice even though every part of me is screaming inside. “You ready to go, baby?”
“Yup!” He bounces on his toes. “You wanna come too, Momma?”
I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “Not this time, pumpkin.”
Leo wraps his arms around my neck, and I hold him tight, tighter than I should. I bury my face in his hair, closing my eyes as I breathe him in.
God, how do I let go?
I can’t. He’s my baby, no matter how old he gets.
My baby.
“Momma, you’re squishing me!” Leo giggles, his laughter bright, and I desperately cling to it, to him.
I eventually loosen my grip, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Go have fun, okay? I love you,” I whisper, the words thick in my throat. My fingers tremble as I run them through his soft, dark hair, smoothing it down. The sob rises in my throat again, but I swallow it down, forcing myself to keep it together. I can’t break in front of him. But every time I blink, the tears keep coming, and I have to clench my fists, dig my nails into my palms, to keep them from spilling over.
Leo flashes me a big grin and runs into the hallway. We all follow close behind, and as soon as Dad opens the front door, Leo bounds outside, his small backpack bouncing, carefree. The social worker gives me a curt nod, then follows him out, quickly falling into step beside him and starting up a conversation with a quiet question.
James stands in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space, but he hesitates. He turns back to me, and for a split second, the mask slips. Guilt flickers across his face again. He wants to say something—his mouth opens, then closes—but he doesn’t. Instead, he dips his head slightly, his eyes holding mine before sliding away. He steps outside, his back rigid, leaving me here without my child, or any hope of seeing him again.
The door clicks shut, and the last fragile thread holding me together snaps. A sob rises out of nowhere, tearing through me with a force I didn’t know I had. Instinctively, I slap my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound as I drift back down the hallway in a daze, finding my way to the living room. I sink onto the couch, clutching the cushion as if it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart entirely. Dad rushes to my side, his reassuring voice a dull hum in the background, but I can’t hear him over the roar of my own heartbreak. I can’t focus on anything except the pain piercing my heart. It’s too much, too sharp, and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop any of it.
I gasp for air, but my chest is tight, constricted, crushing me from the inside out.
Suddenly the front door bursts open and I hear the footsteps before I see him.
James.
He rushes over, crouching in front of me, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me into his chest.