Chapter 1

The polished wood of Dean Thompson' s desk felt cold under my trembling hands.

I clutched the small, ornate music box tighter. Its weight was both a comfort and a stone in my chest. Leo' s ashes were inside. My Leo.

"Are you sure about this, Sarah?" Dean Thompson' s voice was gentle, a contrast to the storm inside me. He pushed the divorce papers slightly towards me.

I nodded, my throat too tight for words. My signature was already there, a messy scrawl. Captain Mark Johnson. My husband. Soon, not.

He looked at the music box. "A family heirloom?"

"Yes," I whispered. "It holds what' s left of my son."

His eyes softened with pity I didn' t want. I just wanted this done.

Four years ago, that night, our wedding night, felt like a lifetime away.

The cheap motel room, a far cry from the small, hopeful wedding reception we' d just left. Mark hadn' t touched me. Instead, he' d pulled out a folded document from his uniform jacket.

A post-nuptial agreement.

His voice was ice. "Sign this, Sarah."

I stared at him, confused. "Mark, what is this?"

"It ensures that if you ever try to pull anything, anything at all, I' m protected." He sneered. "I know you manipulated everyone. You broke up Laura and me. You trapped me."

Laura. My sister. His high school sweetheart. The one he always said was his true love.

"That' s not true, Mark," I' d pleaded, tears welling. "Laura twisted things. She always has."

"Save it." He threw the pen on the table. "Sign it. Or I make your life a living hell starting now. Any misstep, and this goes into effect. And believe me, I' ll be watching."

I signed. What else could I do? He had already started making my life hell.

For weeks now, since Leo… since I lost Leo, Mark has been a ghost, but a demanding one.

He genuinely believes I sent Leo to my adoptive parents in Vermont. A cruel trick, he calls it.

Laura, my sister, fed him that lie. She even claimed she saw me at the bus station with Leo, a little suitcase by his side.

"Stop playing these childish games, Sarah," Mark had said on the phone just yesterday, his voice sharp with annoyance. "When are you bringing Leo back? Ethan misses his playmate."

Ethan, Laura' s son. Always Ethan.

"Leo isn' t coming back, Mark," I' d tried to say, my voice cracking.

"Oh, so he' s having too much fun with your parents to bother with his own father? Spoiling him, are they? Just like you always did."

His ignorance was a blade twisting. He didn' t ask more. He never did.

Today, he came home briefly before his ROTC duties. I couldn' t hold it in anymore. The lie was too heavy.

"Mark, we need to talk about Leo." My voice was shaking.

He was pulling on his polished boots, not looking at me. "What about him? Is he finally tired of Grandma Miller' s cookies?"

"Leo is dead, Mark." The words ripped out of me, raw and bleeding. "He died. Because of you. Because you wouldn' t listen."

I saw his shoulders tense. He stopped tying his laces.

Then he slowly stood up, turned, and looked at me. Not with shock. Not with grief. With cold, hard anger.

"What did you just say?"

"He had an asthma attack. At that dusty park Laura insisted on. You told me I was coddling him. You told him to tough it out. You wouldn' t let me take him to the clinic until it was too late." My words were a torrent of pain.

He stared at me, his face unreadable for a moment, then it hardened into contempt.

"You' re insane, Sarah. Utterly insane." He shook his head. "Leo is fine. Laura told me he' s just a bit under the weather, that' s why you sent him off. Trying to blame me now? For what? Your over-anxious mothering?"

He actually scoffed. "And now you' re saying he' s dead? Just to get at me? You' re pathetic."

He walked towards the door. "Ethan needs new sneakers. His old ones are worn out from playing. Unlike Leo, who you always kept wrapped in cotton wool."

The music box was on the small table by the door. He glanced at it.

"And stop wasting money on frivolous things like that music box. Laura said Ethan could use some new shoes."

He didn' t even register that I was holding Leo' s urn.

He paused at the door, turning back slightly.

"Laura' s feeling a bit down, thinking about Leo being away. Cook something extra tonight. Something she likes. She said you' re a decent cook when you put your mind to it."

My mind was a blank landscape of shock and rage. He was still prioritizing her, even now.

He was completely under Laura' s spell. Always had been. Always would be.

He didn' t believe Leo was dead. He chose not to. Because Laura told him otherwise.

I sank onto the sofa, the divorce papers from Dean Thompson' s office still in my bag.

All those years, I' d tried. Tried to make him see me, see Leo. Tried to make him understand Laura' s poison.

He never did. He saw what Laura wanted him to see.

I was always the difficult one, the manipulator, the one who trapped him. Leo was just an extension of me, something to be tolerated, or ignored.

No more. I wouldn' t be undervalued anymore. I wouldn' t let Leo' s memory be treated this way.

Later, I took the music box from the table. I opened it carefully.

Inside, the small velvet bag held my son. My sweet, brave Leo.

I hummed the tune the box used to play, a lullaby I sang to him every night.

Tears streamed down my face, silent and hot. This was all I had left.

This, and a resolve as hard as steel.

The next morning, Mark was rummaging through my jewelry box.

"Where' s that silver locket? The one your adoptive mother gave you?" he asked, not looking at me.

My heart clenched. I had planned to give it to Leo when he was older.

"Why?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Ethan broke one of Leo' s old toy soldiers. Laura said he feels bad, a bit left out since Leo' s been 'away' . I thought I' d give him the locket. Make him feel special."

He still didn' t believe. Or didn' t want to.

"No," I said, my voice like ice. "You can' t have it."

He scowled. "Don' t be selfish, Sarah. It' s just a piece of metal. Ethan would appreciate it."

I just stared at him until he slammed the jewelry box shut and stormed out.

Selfish. He called me selfish.