ODETTE'S POINT OF VIEW
The message stayed in my phone like a wound that wouldn't scab.
I deleted it the next morning.
Not because I wanted to forget—but because I couldn't let him see it. Not Kiel. Not yet.
He was already suspicious, asking questions with his eyes even when his mouth stayed quiet. But I couldn't drag him into this—not into my past. He had no idea who Sable was. Who I used to be. Who I sometimes still became in moments I swore I left behind.
This was my mess. I'd clean it up before it stained us again.
So I put on my softest sweater, kissed Dalle's forehead as he got ready for school, and smiled like the good mother people expected me to be. Like the sadness never lingered in the shadows of our home.
We dropped Dalle off together, his little hand waving from the gate.
And I told Kiel I needed to go pick up scripts from my manager.
Lie.