Timothy arched an eyebrow, staring irritably at the razor in his hand.

"Whatever. I'll just make do."

After Henry got up, father and son sat down together for breakfast.

Henry had barely tasted his chicken noodle soup before he grimaced and called out, "Mom, did you put too much salt in this?"

No answer.

He tried again, a little louder. "Mom?"

Timothy replied calmly, "Stop calling, your mom isn't home."

Immediately, Henry tapped at his smartwatch, trying to call Jessica, but her phone was switched off.

Lowering his voice, Henry said, "Dad, do you think Mom's upset and ran away?"

"She didn't."

With both him and their son at home, Timothy was certain Jessica wouldn't just leave.

"Good. I still think Mom's breakfasts taste better, though."

Neither of them really enjoyed the meal that morning; it just didn't compare to what they were used to.

"Dad, last night Mom made Miss Sheila so mad she left. Is she coming to see me today?"

"She twisted her ankle and is in the hospital. She probably won't be able to visit today."

worry. "Oh no, Miss Sheila hurt her foot? That must really hurt. Dad, can you call school for me? I want to go

was firm.

his head, not daring to push further, and mumbled, "Can I go see

"That's fine."

off his chair, ran over, and flung his arms around Timothy, standing on

pick me up early, okay? So we can

stood up, personally taking

took care of the room herself, so it was already spotless.

opened the window to

the place was immaculate, she still methodically wiped down

wind

bed, a cancer diagnosis letter was pushed

before, Jessica had returned to her

the house,

she finally turned off her phone, wanting nothing

the liver cancer, or maybe it was just the relief of having nothing to worry about for once, but she slept

her phone back

with

first—several missed calls,

figured Mabel was probably calling

called

she just let it

bank notifications-Timothy had transferred

her out of the

two messages-one from the morning, one from

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