My mother blinked.
“Florida?”
“With his friends.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
She didn’t say anything else, but I could feel the judgment hanging in the air.
That night, after she left, something in me finally snapped.
Not with anger, but with determination.
I realized something important. If Jason could leave me alone during one of the hardest moments of my life, then maybe he needed to understand exactly what that felt like.
So I made a plan.
Over the next two days, I did everything slowly and carefully, making sure not to strain my healing body.
I cleaned the house. I stocked the fridge. I packed Oliver’s diaper bag with everything he would need.
Then I called my mom.
“Can you stay at my place on Sunday evening?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said immediately. “Why?”
