glanced back at me.
That single look carried countless accusations and judgments.
“I’ll come back for the rest of my things next week,” he said.
“You can’t take my home!” I yelled after him as he walked away.
The front door shut behind him with a quiet, final click.
I entered Noah’s room.
Sitting on the floor beside the crib, I rested my forehead against its wooden bars.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered. “I would’ve given anything to keep you here.”
The mobile above the crib shifted gently in the
