VANESSA
Wesley's laugh filled the garden as Fabian tugged him by the hand, insisting on showing him his latest "adventure spot" behind the oak tree. I watched them from the porch, a small smile playing on my lips.
For six years, Wesley had been my rock. When Leo found me broken and alone, Wesley was there, offering his friendship without question. He never pushed for more, though I knew Leo hoped something would blossom between us.
But I couldn't. Not with Fabian's father out there somewhere. Not with these fragments of memory that still haunted me.
"He's getting so big," I whispered to myself, watching Fabian's auburn curls catch the sunlight. At five years old, he was all energy and questions. So much like his father without even knowing it.
"Mommy! Watch me climb!" Fabian called out, already halfway up the tree.
"Careful, sweetie!" I tensed, ready to bolt forward if needed, but Wesley was right there, hands hovering protectively below my son.
