Hotel rooms are designed to feel neutral, but nothing about that morning felt neutral.
My entire marriage had changed before breakfast, and my son was asking simple five-year-old questions while I tried to keep my voice steady.
When Noah finally woke up properly, he was hungry.
So I ordered pancakes.
He thought we were having a special adventure.
He sat there with Captain beside him, eating pancakes like an unexpected hotel breakfast was the most exciting thing that had happened all week.
Watching him believe that nearly broke me.
He didn’t know why we had left home before breakfast.
He didn’t know why I kept checking my phone.
He didn’t know who had been sleeping in the guest room.
He didn’t know why his mother had suddenly become careful about every word she said.
He only knew three things.
I was there.
Captain was there.
And pancakes had appeared in front of him.
So I let that be enough for him.
I sat across from my son and watched him cut into his breakfast while my own food went untouched.
Every few minutes, another thought tried to take over.
Marcus would wake up soon.
Diane would wake up soon.
One of them would notice Noah was gone.
One of them would call.
Maybe both of them would.
