Seraphina’s POV
Every mile brought closer to Adrian. Every mile made my heart beat faster until I thought it might explode out of my chest.
"You okay?" Caleb glanced over at from the driver’s seat.
"Fine." My hands were clenched so tight in my lap my knuckles had gone white.
"Sera."
"I’m fine."
He didn’t push. Just kept driving while I tried to rember how to breathe.
The baseball cap pulled low over my face felt suffocating. The sunglasses made everything look darker, more distant. But I needed them. Needed the disguise. Needed to stay invisible.
"We’re about ten minutes away," Caleb said quietly. "You sure about this?"
"Yes."
"Because we can still turn around. Go straight to the auto supply store. No one would blaâ€""
"I need to see him." My voice ca out strangled. "Please, Caleb. I need to see my son."
He nodded, his jaw tight. "Okay. But we do this my way. We park a block away. You stay hidden. And the second it feels dangerousâ€""
"We leave. I know."
The elentary school ca into view. Red brick. Green playground. Cheerful painted murals on the walls.
My throat closed up completely.
"Park there," I pointed to a spot across the street, partially hidden by a large oak tree. "I can see the front entrance from there."
Caleb pulled into the spot and killed the engine. For a mont, we just sat there in silence.
"What ti does he get out?" he asked.
I checked my phone with shaking hands. "Three-fifteen. Five minutes."
Five minutes until I saw my baby.
Five minutes of sitting here trying not to fall apart.
"Sera." Caleb’s hand found mine. "Whatever happens, whatever you see... you can’t go to him. You understand that, right?"
"I know."
"I an it. Even if he’s crying. Even if he looks upset. You can’t go to him."
"I know!" The words ca out sharper than I intended. "I’m sorry. I just... I know. I understand."
He squeezed my hand once, then released it. "Okay."
The school bell rang.
My entire body went rigid. This was it. This was really happening.
The front doors burst open, and children poured out like a flood. Tiny bodies in backpacks. High-pitched voices calling goodbye to friends. Parents waiting at the gates with smiles and open arms.
I scanned every face. Every small head. Every little boy in the crowd.
Where was he?
There.
My breath stopped. Actually stopped.
Adrian.
He walked out of the school building with his backpack bouncing against his shoulders, his dark hair catching the afternoon sun. He looked so much taller than I rembered. When did he get so tall?
He was talking to another boy, gesturing with his hands about sothing. Even from here, I could see his expression was animated. Happy.
He looked okay.
He looked fine without .
The thought hit like a knife to the chest. All this ti, I’d been convincing myself that Adrian needed . That he was suffering without his mother.
But he looked... normal. Healthy. Like a regular kid having a regular day.
"Oh God," I whispered, my hand pressed against my mouth.
"Sera?"
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. The tears were already falling, hot and fast and completely unstoppable.
Adrian said goodbye to his friend and headed toward the front gate. The nanny was there, just like always. The sa woman who’d been helping with the kids since Lily was born.
She waved at Adrian. He waved back, breaking into a run.
The nanny said sothing that made Adrian laugh. That beautiful, bright laugh that used to be my favorite sound in the world. He took her hand, and they started walking toward the parking lot.
"He’s fine," I choked out. "He’s completely fine without ."
"Sera"
"No, look at him!" I gestured wildly at my son. "He’s laughing. He’s happy. He doesn’t need at all."
"That’s not true."
"Isn’t it?" I swiped at my face with the back of my hand. "I thought... I thought he’d be falling apart. That he’d need so badly. But he’s just... he’s just living his life. Like I never existed."
Caleb was quiet for a mont. Then he said gently, "Kids are resilient. That doesn’t an he’s not hurting."
I watched Adrian skip alongside the nanny, chattering about sothing. His whole face was lit up with whatever story he was telling.
My beautiful boy. My baby.
I pressed my hand harder against my mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that wanted to tear out of . My whole body shook with the effort of staying silent. Of staying hidden.
"I miss him so much," I gasped between sobs. "God, Caleb, I miss him so much it physically hurts."
"I know."
"I want to hold him. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want toâ€""
"You can’t." His voice was firm but kind. "You know you can’t."
I did know. That’s what made it unbearable.
Adrian and the nanny reached their car. She opened the door for him, and he climbed into his booster seat. Still talking. Still animated.
My hands were shaking so badly I had to clasp them together to keep them still. Every fiber of my being scread at to get out of this car. To run across that street. To grab my son and never let him go.
But I couldn’t.
"They’re leaving," Caleb said quietly.
I watched the nanny’s car pull out of the parking spot. Watched it drive down the street. Watched it carry my son further and further away from .
Adrian’s face appeared in the window for a brief mont. He was looking at sothing outside, his expression curious.
Then the car turned a corner, and he was gone.
"We should go," Caleb said.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything except stare at the empty space where Adrian had been.
"Sera, we need to--""
"Wait." My whole body went rigid. "Wait, they stopped."
The car had indeed stopped at the corner, barely visible through the trees. The door opened, and Adrian got out.
What was he doing?
The nanny got out too, looking confused. She said sothing to Adrian, but he wasn’t listening. He was standing on the sidewalk, his head tilted slightly, his small body absolutely still.
My heart started racing. Sothing was wrong.
Adrian turned.
His silver-blue eyes scanned the street with an intensity that didn’t belong on a five-year-old’s face. He was looking for sothing. Soone.
"Oh no," Caleb breathed. "Sera, get down. Get down now."
But I couldn’t move. I was frozen, watching my son’s face as he searched.
He took a step forward. Then another.
The nanny called to him, but he held up one hand. Wait.
He was sniffing the air. Actually sniffing, like a wolf tracking a scent.
"Sera, I’m serious. Duck down. If he see--"
Then, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it through the closed car window, Adrian spoke.
"I think my mama’s around here sowhere."
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