"So," she collected herself, sipping her Coke, "how do you feel now? Do you hate him?"
"...I should hate him." I covered my face.
Sarah's expression turned serious.
"Anthea," she began slowly, "you don't have Stockholm syndrome, do you?"
"What?" I looked at her.
"Haven't you heard of it? When abuse victims fall for their abusers." She set down the can, face full of worry. "Maybe you should see a therapist—"
"It's not that, Sarah." I cut her off, voice serious. "I know what you're worried about. But it's not because of the imprisonment... I fell for him again before he locked me up. Before, on the Ferris wheel, when he kissed me, I didn't pull away. I already..."
Sarah was quiet for a long time. Then she reached out and pulled me into her arms.
"Maybe that's just how love works," she said softly. "Even though he's a bastard, you still love him."
I pressed my face to her shoulder, tears falling silently. Yeah. Even though he was a bastard.
After Sarah left, I watched the night deepen outside, city lights glowing brighter in the distance. I wondered if Olei was asleep. I'd just left this morning without even saying goodbye. Would he think Mommy had disappeared again?
I pulled out my phone and called Olei's watch.
"Mommy!" Olei answered, voice full of delight. "Mommy, are you feeling better?"
My heart melted.
"Yes, baby," I said gently. "Mommy's fine now."
"Really?" His voice turned urgent. "You're not sick anymore? Did you eat something?"
"Not sick anymore. I ate." My nose stung. "What about you? How was your day?"
"Kind of boring today. Daddy was out all day." His voice sounded dull.
Hearing him mention Silas, my hand tightened around the phone unconsciously.
"Before, when Daddy didn't come home, I wasn't bored. Because Daddy didn't smile much before, and I didn't know how to be around him." Olei continued. "But then Mommy came back, and Daddy changed."
My heart squeezed. Olei had noticed Silas's change, too. Maybe Silas was also learning how to be better with Olei.
"Mommy," Olei's voice suddenly filled with anticipation, "can you take me to the park next time?"
That's how kids were. Even when adults didn't respond, they'd just keep chattering.
"Of course." I smiled. "Once I pick a time, I'll let you know."
"Yay!" Olei's voice was pure joy.
Listening to his happy voice made my chest ache. Normal kids wouldn't get this excited about going to the park with their mom. We talked for a long time. Olei chattered about homework, games he'd played. Before we knew it, it was ten—Olei's bedtime.
"Mommy, can you... stay on until I fall asleep?" he asked quietly.
"Of course, baby." My throat tightened.
I hummed a lullaby softly, one my mother used to sing to me when I was little. It always put me right to sleep.
"Mommy," his voice carried a hint of drowsiness, almost like he was acting spoiled, "I'm grown up now. I don't need lullabies anymore."
