Chapter 27 #2
“My mum does. She bought me a whole set of art things for my nineth birthday. My dad doesn’t really care.”
A tight knot coils in my stomach, and my jaw tightens at the thought of Adrian completely disregarding his own child’s interests.
“What makes you think he doesn’t care?” I ask gently.
“Because he never has time to look at them. And when I try to show them to him, he just says, ‘Good job, Zac,’ but he doesn’t really look.”
I reach out, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, bud. That must hurt. But know this—your mum, and even I, think your drawings are amazing.
We can see how hard you’ve worked on them and how much they mean to you, and that makes them important to us too.
Never let anyone make you feel small or unseen.
You have a real gift, Zac. Let it shine. ”
He nods slowly, saying nothing more. Minutes stretch by in silence, broken only by the soft clattering sounds of our work. We move in rhythm—me holding pieces steady, him gluing them into place. Just when I think the conversation has run its course, he sets the glue gun down and turns to face me.
“He used to be a good dad, you know,” he whispers, almost sadly.
“Back when he used to live with us. But now… he’s different.
He’s always too busy to spend time with me, and he makes Mum sad or angry everytime he talks to her on the phone.
Mum’s always been a good mum and a good wife, so I don’t know why he likes to hurt her.
It makes me so mad that I think I’m starting to hate him more and more.
Sometimes I wish he’d just leave us alone and go away forever.
Me and Mum would be so much happier without him. ”
His words pierce straight through my chest, stirring a storm of emotions—anger and frustration towards Adrian, sadness and heartache for Hope and Zac.
Something inside me cracks as I watch Zac’s small shoulders sag under the heaviness no child should have to bear.
It’s unbearably unfair, and hearing the toll it has taken on them both twists something deep in my chest.
He’s trying so hard to be strong, and I can see the love he has for his mother—the way he wants, so desperately, to protect her.
It makes me so proud of him, yet at the same time, I just want to shield him, and his mother, from any more suffering and hurt.
I’ve only known them a short time, but they’re already finding their way into my heart.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Zac. But remember this, none of what’s happened is your fault.
None of it, okay? You might not believe it right now, but your dad still loves and cares about you.
He might have changed, but his love for you hasn’t.
I love that you want to protect your mother.
You’re a good kid, Zac. You have so many great things about you.
And I just know your parents are proud of you no matter what. I’m proud of you.”
He keeps his gaze fixed on the glue gun, lingering there for a moment longer, as if he’s quietly absorbing everything I’ve said.
Then he nods once—quietly, before picking it up again and returning to his task, carefully gluing the pop sticks on the roof of the model house.
He doesn’t bring it up again. Instead, he initiates a lighter conversation about wanting to outdo his classmate, Sebastian, who he insists is really good at making things.
We spend the next hour and a half constructing and talking, until Hope reappears in the doorway to let us know lunch is ready. We eat at the dining table, where we scoff down the best chicken pot pie I’ve ever had, the heavy mood that was earlier now lifted, replaced by laughter and easy chatter.
After our meal, Zac proudly shows his mother his almost-completed house, walking her through each step of how we built the model.
All that’s left now is the painting, which he has decided to finish on his own.
Hope listens in quiet awe, a genuine smile of pride lighting her face as she takes in every word her son says.
I hang back, watching the way they interact with each other so naturally, and feel a warmth bloom in my chest. Adrian may have shattered the family they once were, but in this moment, it’s clear they’ve built something new—something stronger, better.
Watching Hope dote on her son and celebrate his accomplishment is all the proof I need that the family they are now is closer than ever.
When it’s time to say goodbye, Zac wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, and I return it without hesitation, squeezing him right back.
As soon as he pulls away, he thanks me once more for my help, promising to share his prize money with me if he wins.
I tell him he deserves to keep it all, that he’s the one who worked so hard for it.
He seems to accept that, then goes back to his model house, to start on the painting process.
Hope walks me to the door, and the silence between us no longer feels uncomfortable, only calm, natural in a way it wasn’t before.
“I know I’ve probably said it a dozen times today, but thank you, Kaden—for helping Zac with his project, and for your kindness and generosity. I feel like my list of things I owe you for just keeps growing longer.”
I let out a quiet chuckle. “It was my pleasure, Hope. I’d happily do it again. It was a lot of fun. Zac’s a bright kid, hella talented too. If I had a son like him, I’d build a museum of everything he creates, and display it proudly for everyone to see.”
Something shifts in her expression—subtle, almost impossible to read.
But the quickening rise and fall of her chest, and the small, unguarded smile tugging at her lips, tells me my words have reached somewhere no one else has.
Her gaze drops, lashes fluttering as she fixates on something near her shoe.
When she finally looks up again, her icy-blue eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“You know, Kaden, we might not know each other very well, but even in the short time we’ve spent together, I’m so grateful you sent me that message over a year ago.”
“So am I, Hope. So am I.”
She steps closer, her movements deliberate and slow, and slides her arms around my back.
I wrap my own around her, drawing her body flush against me, until my face rests in the crook of her neck.
I close my eyes, breathing her in, letting her scent and warmth soak into me like a summer’s breeze.
We stand there holding each other, neither of us willing to be the first to let go.
It’s only when Zac’s voice calls from the living room that we finally break apart.
“Drive safely, Kaden.”
“I will. Take care, Hope. And thanks for lunch.”
She nods, but doesn’t say anything more.
I climb into my car, my movements unrushed, not wanting to leave her just yet. She stands in the same spot, arms crossed, but not in a guarded or hostile way—just watching.
When I finally pull out of the driveway, I give her one last wave before I’m on the road, inching further away from her house.
Something is shifting inside me—between us. Something I’m not ready to name. Because even if I wanted to, I can’t let myself feel it—at least not yet.
Not while so much remains unspoken. And not while she still has no idea of the person I once was.