Goodbye, Mr. Regret

It felt as though a sharp knife had plunged straight into Jessica's heart.

She'd always treated Henry well-she knew that. Yet, somehow, he always managed to hurt her the most.

"Henry, that's enough!" Timothy's voice was cold, cutting through the tension in the room.

"Dad, I" Henry started to explain.

"Henry." Sheila gently pulled him toward her, her tone soft but firm. "You can't accuse your mom of things she hasn't done."

Henry's lips pressed together in frustration. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh-it was just a reflex. Deep down, he always knew that bringing up his mother would upset his father. But lately, everything had changed. Miss Sheila hadn't come by in a long while, and she didn't visit him at school anymore. Every day, someone from the family picked him up, and his classmates kept asking why his beautiful mom never came. He had no idea what to say.

Whenever he tried to reach Sheila, she'd tell him she was busy and couldn't get away. She'd also told him that his own mother had come back. She never said it outright, but Henry could sense it: his mom was the reason Miss Sheila stayed away.

He slipped his hand out of Sheila's, walked over to Jessica, and whispered, "Mom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just wanted Miss Sheila to come over as a guest. Please don't be mad, okay?"

He reached out, hoping to hold Jessica's hand like he used to when he wanted to win her forgiveness with a little charm. In the past, if he ever made a mistake, a little show of affection was all it took-his mother would always soften.

He didn't want to get scolded by his dad for what he'd said, and if his father got angry and sent Miss Sheila away, that would be even worse.

fingers brushed Jessica's hand, she recoiled as

upset he was too shocked. "Mom,

just as stunned. The last time she'd seen Jessica, she'd

her eyes cold. "I can talk now. Does that make you happy,

not? Henry didn't know what to feel. Everything inside him was tangled

with his real mother talking again, what would people think if he

made his way over, leaning on his cane, and took Henry's hand in his. His voice

"I don't need his

into the master bedroom. She closed the door behind her, pressing her back

loving Timothy-that whatever he did, it no longer mattered. But Henry was different. He was her son, her flesh and blood, the child she'd carried

could bear. Tears of frustration and shame spilled down his

mom treat him like

You're not

Timothy was

feelings in check-he started