Then, the traditional march began. The classic, pompous music swelled over the speakers. The senior class, a sea of blue gowns, began their slow, rhythmic march down the center aisle toward the grand stage to receive their diplomas.
I leaned out into the aisle, my heart swelling with a fierce, protective pride as I spotted Ethan in the middle of the pack. He looked handsome, tall, and incredibly serious.
But as his row reached our section, Ethan didn’t follow the line forward.
Instead, he stopped. He broke rank entirely, stepping out of the procession, and walked straight toward our row.
“Mom,” he whispered, his eyes dark and pleading as he stopped at the edge of the aisle, ignoring the confused student piling up behind him. He reached his large hands out toward Chloe. “Give her to me.”
My heart stopped dead in my chest. The blood rushed to my ears, drowning out the processional music.
