Friday morning felt different. Beneath the sizzle of pancakes, a new energy hummed in my veins.
“Jake, don’t forget your library book!” I called out, my voice steady while my mind drifted to visions of a quiet beach and a phone turned firmly off.
Marcus gave me his standard, autopilot “Thanks, Ma,” as he grabbed his coffee. It wasn’t gratitude; it was a habit, like checking the mail. I met it with a hollow smile, savoring the secret that I was about to break his routine into a thousand pieces.
