—Mabel—

Once again, the children were asleep when I got home.

I adjusted the pillow beneath Damian’s head, pulled Nathaniel’s blanket up to his midriff. Eloise’s little hand dangled over the side of the bed—I tucked it back under the covers and stood for a moment watching them.

Each one was his spitting image. A memory of that night.

Switching off the light, I padded quietly to my room and sent Ruth a quick text.

(I'm home. Talk to you tomorrow.)

In the bathtub, I couldn't stop ...