Chapter 4 - FRAGMENTS OF A BROKEN MIRROR
The hour stretched into three,
then four,
as we sat in the kitchen under the soft glow of the pendant lights.
Blake looked around the room,
noting the drawings taped to the refrigerator and the stray Lego bricks on the floor.
“You did this all by yourself,”
he whispered,
running a hand over the wooden table.
“I had help from friends,”
I said,
sipping a cup of tea that had gone cold.
“But yes.
I made a life here.”
I told him about the day they were born,
the terrifying silence before the first cry,
and the way the nurses had laughed when they realized there were three of them.
I told him about the nights I had spent crying from exhaustion,
wishing I had someone to hold the bottle while I rested for just five minutes.
Every word I spoke was a needle in his skin,
and I didn't hold back.
I wanted him to feel the weight of his absence.
“I have a plane,”
he said suddenly,
leaning forward.
“I can be here every weekend.
I can move the headquarters to Chicago.”
“Slow down,
Blake,”
I warned.
“You aren't moving into our lives like a corporate takeover.
The boys don’t know you.
To them,
you are just a man from a flight.”
Just then,
a small figure appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.
It was Liam,
clutching a worn-out teddy bear.
“Mommy?
I had a bad dream about the thunder,”
he whispered,
rubbing his eyes.
Blake froze,
his breath hitching in his throat.
He looked at Liam,
his own son,
standing just five feet away.
“It’s okay,
sweetie,”
I said,
opening my arms.
“Come here.”
Liam climbed into my lap,
but his eyes were fixed on the stranger at the table.
“Who is that?”
he asked.
I felt Blake’s gaze on me,
pleading,
terrified of what I would say.
I could have said he was a salesman.
I could have said he was a friend from work.
But I looked at the way Blake was looking at Liam,
with a reverence that was almost holy.
“This is Blake,”
I said softly.
“He’s...
he’s an old friend who traveled a long way to meet you.”
Blake’s eyes filled with tears,
but he forced a smile.
“Hi,
Liam,”
he said,
his voice barely a whisper.
“I heard you like dinosaurs.”
Liam’s eyes widened.
“How did you know?”
“I just had a feeling,”
Blake said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small,
silver coin—a lucky piece he had carried since he was a boy.
“Would you like to see a magic trick?”
I watched as the billionaire who had conquered Wall Street spent the next twenty minutes performing simple sleight-of-hand tricks for a five-year-old in pajamas.
For the first time in five years,
May you like
the house didn't feel like a fortress.
It felt like a home that was finally beginning to breathe again.
