“I want him to come when it’s done.”

I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

I was furious at Mark for treating his son as an unwanted obligation.

But I could not erase the years Tommy had spent waiting for his father to come home, or the way he ran to the door whenever Mark arrived early.

That evening, Tommy came out of his room wearing the yellow raincoat he’d insisted on keeping even after it grew too short in the sleeves.

He wanted to help carry boxes downstairs.