Did he ever stop to think Luca might cry too?

That maybe our son wanted his dad there to help blow out the candles?

Whatever. Doesn't matter now.

We're getting a divorce anyway.

I walked past him into Luca's room and shut the door.

Stanley pressed a hand against it, his face torn.

"Babe, I know I messed up. It won't happen again, I swear. Please don't be mad. This is the last time—promise!"

I smiled.

"Yeah? You said that nine hours ago."

Silence fell—so thick I could hear both our hearts pounding.

For once, Stanley actually looked rattled.

"You know Howard and I grew up together. As his best friend, I just couldn't..."

He sighed, trying to look serious.

"Give me three more chances. After that, I'll fix things with Hallie and her kid. I'll focus on you and Luca. Please—just trust me one more time."

From inside the room, the bed creaked.

Then came soft, muffled sobs.

Luca was awake.

I turned. Through the crack in the door, I saw him curled up, eyes red, pretending to sleep.

I didn't say a word.

Fine.

Three more chances.

Not for Stanley—for Luca to have time to say goodbye.

After that?

This marriage. This house.

He's out.

***

The next morning, I slept in.

Stanley didn't bolt out the door like he usually did. Instead, he made this whole big breakfast for me and Luca.

Couldn't remember the last time he actually cooked.

Three years back, he used to wake up early just to make sure we ate. Said it hurt watching us pick at scraps.

Then Hallie lost her husband—and that whole routine vanished.

He started ducking out earlier every day. Breakfast turned from homemade to drive-thru, then to frozen junk stacked in the freezer.

The first time I chucked one of those rock-hard meals in the trash, I told myself, "No big deal. It's just breakfast."

But now? I get it. All those little 'no big deals' were him checking out of this family, one breakfast at a time.

I shook the thought off and grabbed Luca's hand as we got ready for school.

Stanley froze, then scrambled to grab a glass of milk and some eggs, stepping in our way.

"You haven't eaten. I got up at five to make this. Just have a bite."

Luca's lip wobbled. "Dad, I haven't eaten boiled eggs since I was two."

He'd choked on one once—not a big deal, but it stuck with him.

Stanley blinked, like it was just now hitting him. Then he pushed the milk forward, stiff and awkward.

"Fine. Drink the milk. I even warmed it up."

"The doctor said I'm lactose intolerant, so I can't drink milk." Luca looked up, eyes full of letdown. "Dad, you told me that."

Stanley froze.

Shot me a look, like I'd bail him out.

I looked away.

Luca was right. Stanley used to sweat every tiny detail. Always said, "Babe, you and the kid just relax—I'll handle the rest. Gotta be the perfect dad for Luca."

Now he didn't even remember the egg thing.

Guilt flashed across his face. He grabbed his keys.

"Forget breakfast. Luca, I'll drive you."

Funny—I hadn't been in his car for three months.

I opened the door, hoisted Luca into the car seat.

Just as I reached for the buckle, Stanley yanked Luca's hand and pulled him out.

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."

Stanley paused, then laughed like it was all no big deal.

"Babe, don't be like this. So I dropped Archie off first—what's the big deal? Why are you mad at a little kid? Look, Luca didn't eat his cake yesterday, right? I'll book a place and get a new one. We'll celebrate tonight, okay?"

That voice—sweet, like he was coaxing a toddler.

I wanted to shut it down.

But Luca looked up at me, hopeful.

"Mom, he still has two chances left. Please? I want him at my birthday."

I sighed. Long and slow.

"Okay."

***

Maybe it was Stanley's promise, but Luca was buzzing the whole ride home.

"Mom, what kind of cake do you think Dad'll get? Maybe a Transformers one? I didn't open my gift yesterday. After we blow out the candles, can we open Dad's? He promised me a Lego set this year."

He kept going like we were back before Hallie and her kid showed up in our lives.

I smiled, heart soft.

"For sure. You told him, like, a hundred times you love Transformers. He'll remember."

At 7 sharp, I brought Luca to the restaurant.

Stanley was already there, an eight-inch cake on the table.

Luca let go of my hand and ran.

"Da—"

"Daddy!"

A louder voice cut him off.

Archie shot out of the bathroom and launched into Stanley's arms.

"Daddy, the bathroom here's tiny. Not like Disneyland's. When are you taking me again? I wanna sit on your shoulders and watch fireworks!"

He looked up, soaking in all the attention.

Disneyland?

Luca's excitement vanished.

I didn't have to guess—he was already wondering when that trip happened, and why he wasn't there.

He bit his lip. Voice barely a whisper.

"Dad, I want to—"

"Stanley!"

Hallie popped up outta nowhere, all smiles like some perfect wife-mom combo.

"Archie ran ahead. I could barely keep up. Loretta, you're here too? Sit—Archie's about to cut the cake."

She said it like she was hosting and Luca and I were just tagging along.

"Archie's cutting the cake?"

Luca blinked up at Stanley, confused.

"Dad, didn't you say it was my birthday? I wanna blow out the candles..."

Stanley frowned, already annoyed. "Why are you being difficult? It's just a cake. Let Archie have this. Be good, okay?"

Here we go again.

I shut my eyes, drained.

Part of me wanted to grab Luca and leave.

But more than that—I needed him to see who his dad really was. So he could finally let go.

The box opened.

Not the cake Luca wanted.

Raspberry filling—his least favorite.

I watched, ice-cold, as Stanley shoved candles into it and popped a party hat on Archie.

Then he slid the cake in front of Archie and let him blow out the candles.

First slice? Archie handed it to Hallie.

"Mom, you eat it."

The boy, curled up in Stanley's lap, nudged the plate toward her.

Then kissed Stanley's cheek.

"Dad, you and Mom eat together."

Luca snapped.

Eyes glassy, voice cracking—"He's my dad!"

Hallie blinked, then instantly welled up.

"Stanley, I'm sorry—I didn't raise Archie right. Luca's just jealous... because of me. Archie just really wants a dad..."