Then I heard faint crying coming from upstairs.
I moved up the staircase as fast as I could manage, a sharp ache shooting through my leg with every heavy step.
The nursery door was halfway open.
My mother was inside, still wearing her winter coat, holding one baby against her shoulder while the other lay crying in the crib. Mom looked up as I entered. Her eyes filled with tears, dropping from my face down to my prosthetic leg.
“Gavin…”
“Mom? What happened? Where’s Brenda?”
Mom looked away, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Gavin. Brenda asked me to take the girls out to the park for an hour… said she needed some time alone. But when I got back…”
I saw the handwritten note resting on the empty changing table.
One cold line made everything collapse into place:
“Victor told me about your leg. And that you were coming home to surprise me today. I can’t do this, Gavin. I won’t waste my youth on a broken man and changing diapers. Victor can offer me a real future. Take care… Brenda.”
