chapter 9
However, the moment I tasted it, my smile froze. “Spit it out! You can’t eat this!”
Panic gripped me as I snatched the cake from his hands.
Matthew’s face darkened. “Whitney, are you crazy?”
I raised my head, my eyes stinging with tears. “Tyler is allergic to mango. You didn’t know?”
Matthew’s expression shifted to alarm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He was sorry again. Since Tyler was born, I had heard that word far too many times.
Tyler froze and stared at Matthew with wide eyes. The hope in them dimmed. “It’s okay. He couldn’t have known.”
With that, Tyler buried his face in my embrace and refused to look at him again.
Without hesitation, I stood, carried Tyler, and walked out. Even as we left the house, I could still feel Matthew’s regretful, frantic gaze.
This time, neither Tyler nor I wavered.
I posted here a few weeks ago under a throwaway because, well, nothing about my life has ever been straightforward and anonymity felt like the only honest thing I still had. People asked for an update, and I promised I’d circle back after things were final. They are now. This will be long, because real life never fits neatly into a three-paragraph bow, and because I learned that the truth can be both kinder and colder than the stories we tell ourselves.