“Just thought I’d see how everything is going?”
“This is what we’ll be working on, Mum. Look,” he says, lifting his art book to show her the sketch of the house.
“Oh, I love that one! I can already tell it’s going to be fantastic,” she declares, smiling encouragingly at Zac. Her gaze then drops to the floor, where an assortment of materials has been neatly arranged into small piles. “Are those what you’ll be using to build your model?”
I nod quietly, letting Zac take the lead.
“Yeah, they are,” he says, nodding as if he’s already pictured it all finished. “I was thinking the boxes could be the frame of the house, and the pop sticks could be for the roof. The twigs could be glued on the outside so it looks like logs on a real cabin. The pebbles can be the pathway, and the paper towel rolls can be the trees.”
He pauses, frowning slightly in concentration. “I just have to figure out how to make the chimney… and the doors and the windows.”
“How about we cut the clear bottles for the windows, and use these small wood pieces as the door?” I suggest, holding up a tiny rectangular piece.
“Oh, yeah! That’s a good idea!” He smiles widely. “I guess we can leave the chimney last. I want it to stand out,” he states, his voice full of determination.
It’s immediately clear how confident and invested Zac is when he expresses his ideas. He approaches everything with determination and creativity that feels older than his years. At times, it’s easy to forget how young he really is when he speaks with such certainty and insight.Watching him, I find myself picturing a future architect or engineer in the making.
“All of these ideas are wonderful, and I can’t wait to see the finished result,” Hope says, her voice soft with pride. “I’ll let you get back to it. Let me know if you need anything.”
She turns and wanders back into the kitchen, resuming her cooking. Moments later, the house quickly fills with mouth-watering aromas, the warm scent of spices and baked pastry curling through the air.
I take another sip of my lemonade, loving how refreshingly sweet it tastes on my tongue.
Not wanting to waste another minute, Zac and I dive straight back into the project, starting with the cardboard boxes that will form the foundation of the house. I mostly offer suggestions and hold the pieces steady, while he glues them into place. He’s very much in charge, with me happily playing the role of his assistant.
“Thank you for helping me, Kaden,” he says softly.
“No worries at all. I’ll take any excuse to make something.”
“Mum says you build a lot of nice things with wood.”
“I do. It’s my passion, just like plants and gardening are your mum’s.”
“I like drawing things,” he confesses.
“I can see that. And you’re very good at it too.”
“I know.”
I snort a laugh, his honesty and confidence refreshing. “Do your parents know that you love to draw?”
“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.
