Three Chances, Then Gone

Luca toppled out of the car, smacking his forehead hard—blood started gushing.

I stared at Stanley, stunned. "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't expect that. A flash of concern, yeah—but no regret.

"That's Archie's seat. He doesn't like people messing with his stuff. Luca, I didn't mean to. You're a good kid, right? You get it, don't you?"

My eyes burned. I raised my hand to slap him.

Luca's breath hitched like he was holding it all in, but he grabbed my wrist.

"It's okay, Mom. Don't fight Dad. I'm a good boy. I don't need Archie's stuff."

He said it like it didn't matter, but his eyes were rimmed red.

Last week was the same mess. Stanley bought Luca a new toy—then Hallie posted that Archie wanted one too.

Next thing I knew, Stanley sweet-talked Luca into giving it up behind my back and dropped it off at Hallie's that night.

And I didn't even find out until yesterday.

So what else was he hiding?

I looked at Luca's pale face, barely holding it together. No more waiting. I scooped him up.

"What are you doing just standing there? Get us to the hospital!"

Stanley yanked open the door, fumbled with the seatbelt, about to start the car—then his phone rang.

That ringtone: "I have a good daddy, a good daddy..."

He picked up.

On the other end, a kid was crying hard.

"Daddy, where are you?! I'm gonna be late! You promised me! You said you'd never let me down!"

Then Hallie's voice floated in through the Bluetooth—soft, pitiful.

"Stanley, Archie's been a mess since you missed bedtime. He's been crying all morning. I can't calm him down. Can you come now?"

Stanley didn't even pause.

He kept saying yes, over and over, then turned and shoved me and Luca out of the car.

"Babe, you get it. Archie's losing it—I've gotta be there. You and Luca can grab a cab."

Then the black Maybach peeled off.

I stood there holding Luca, watching the exhaust trail fade into the street.

And I laughed—cold and bitter.

"Luca, did you see that? There goes chance number one."

***

While we were checking in at the hospital, Hallie started texting:

[Heard Luca got hurt. Is it serious?]

[Sorry, Loretta, Stanley just cares too much about Archie. He didn't mean to leave you two like that.]

[Please don't fight with Stanley when he gets home, or I'll feel like the bad guy.]

She topped it off with a hand-heart GIF—Archie on Stanley's shoulders, forming a heart with his tiny fingers.

Judging by their outfits, that photo was taken just now.

So Stanley ditched his bleeding son... to give Hallie's kid a piggyback ride?

I almost laughed. Instead, my fingers moved on their own and opened the album labeled "Happy Family."

Five years. One thousand, seven hundred thirty-two photos.

Not a single one of Luca on Stanley's shoulders.

Stanley used to say he was too busy. Claimed his neck hurt from work.

So when Luca saw other kids riding high, he'd whisper, "Daddy works hard. I don't need to be carried. I don't wanna make it worse for him."

And he meant it.

All that self-control. All that quiet, grown-up understanding. Wasted.

The love that should've been his? Stanley gave it away without looking back.

I took a slow breath and closed the album.

Then I changed my phone wallpaper—from our old family portrait to a shot of just me and Luca.

This home didn't need Stanley in it anymore.

As we left the hospital, my phone lit up. Stanley.

He finally remembered to call.

"Honey, how's Luca? Send me the address. I just dropped Archie off. I'm free to come get you now."

"No need," I said, calm and flat, eyes on the ride-share app. "We'll take a cab. Don't trouble yourself."