Too Late For Our Love

My husband, Dorian Halle, never loved me. He never loved our son, Leo, either.

The day our son was born, he didn't even spare the boy a glance. He just thrust him into my arms.

Then Cassandra, his first love—the one who’d betrayed him—returned from abroad.

That night, the perpetually cold Dorian got drunk for the first time. He even held our child and smiled.

Our son, ecstatic, wrapped his little arms around my husband's neck and whispered, "Mamma, what's wrong with Uncle?"

I knelt and pulled him close, my own eyes burning as I explained, "The one he's always wanted is back. We can't be in his way anymore. We’re going to find a new home."

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1

After tucking my son into bed, I returned to my room, opened my laptop, and began mapping out our escape.

Dorian and I had been married for seven years.

We've slept in separate rooms for seven years.

Tonight, I was finally breaking free from these shackles.

Knock, knock, knock.

I opened the door to find my seven-year-old son standing there.

"Mamma, are we really leaving?"

He looked at me, his eyes clouded with reluctance.

"But Uncle held me tonight. Does that mean he likes me now?"

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

Even after seven years of a marriage alliance, Dorian never allowed our son to call him "Papa."

When Leo was four, Dorian took him to a family gathering. On the way, they ran into an acquaintance.

When Leo accidentally called him "Papa," Dorian dragged him home and locked him in the basement.

When I finally found him, Leo was huddled in a corner, trembling, his voice raw from screaming.

When Leo was six, he begged Dorian to take him to the shooting range.

But when our son once again slipped and called him "Papa," Dorian dropped his hand and walked away without a word.

Just like that, my six-year-old child was abandoned in a crowd of strangers.

When I finally found him, he was hiding behind a car, sobbing until he was breathless.

From then on, our son called him "Uncle," and we became a running joke within the family.

The memory brought a fresh wave of sorrow, and I couldn't stop myself from pulling him into a fierce hug.

"Leo, the one Uncle has always wanted is back. We can't live in this house anymore."

His eyes dimmed, but he quickly held up a small toy car.

"But Mamma, Uncle gave me this tonight. If he doesn't like me, why would he give me a present?"

His expression was desperate, pleading. He wanted so badly to prove his father loved him.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

What could I say?

How could I possibly explain?

That Dorian was only happy because his first love had returned?

That this small toy was just a byproduct of his joy over another woman?

I couldn't say a thing.

As always, I swallowed the bitter truth, plastering on a smile for my son.

I kissed Leo's forehead, secretly wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

A mother will do anything to protect her child's heart, even build a castle of lies.

I fought back a sob and asked with a manufactured smile, "Leo, if Mamma wants to take you away from here, would you come with me?"

My son paused, then asked in a small voice, "Can't we stay?

"I didn't get a chance… for him to hold me like a real father…"

I could no longer hold back my tears. I bit my lip, hard.

"Leo, he doesn't want us in his house anymore.

"Mamma will take you somewhere new, okay?"

My son pulled his hand back, clutching the toy car as if it were a lifeline. He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke.