"Dad?" Fletcher mumbles from his spot on the floor in front of the coffee table, pointing a small finger down at the drawing in my sketchbook I'd gotten out for him to look through. It was filled with all of my old doodles that I scribbled down when I couldn't sleep on the tour busses.

"What's up rascal?" I hum, abandoning the dinner cooking in the pan on the stove as I flip around to see which drawing he's looking at. "I've seen that drawing before, but—but where?" He asks curiously, his face contorted with childlike innocence.

The question makes my heart ache, I know he doesn't know the backstory to it so I can't blame him for asking, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

You and I broke up over a whole year ago now. 14 months, 28 days, 16 hours, 31 minutes and 19 seconds ago, not that I'm counting or anything.

We were together from 2013 right through until just last year. Then we had Fletcher in 2016, not long after my band had gone on hiatus. Up until 2021, when Love On Tour was starting, we had a decently private life, no one knew about Fletcher, you and I were the happiest we'd been and were constantly darting off as a little family to Italy.

Then came the downfall, I was selfishly busy with tour so I never had time to be home with the two people I loved—no, love the most. Which, I didn't realise how much of a toll my absence in yours and especially our son's life took until you sat down in the living room with me one day and told me you felt our relationship was one-sided, then broke up with me, the custody over Fletcher already sorted. We've remained mostly civil, for Fletcher's sake. You stay over for dinner on Sunday nights when you come to pick up our little man.

You were right. It was one-sided but I didn't realise that until after you left. I lost the best thing in my life, and now I only see my son every second weekend. But I can't blame anyone but myself for it.

"Your mama has it tattooed on her back, that's where you've seen it, Fletch." I watch as his eyes widen with the new revelation, a wondrous "oh" escaping his lips. It both warms and breaks my heart, you got my dolphin doodle tattooed in 2015 because you loved it, even if it was a random doodle I did when I was bored. "Right..." I gently poke the back of his right shoulder for emphasis. "... here"

I let out a quiet exhale and gently pat Fletcher's back, more for my sake than his. I can still see you every time I look into his eyes, every little thing reminds me of you. I know you'll be here any minute to have dinner then take our son home and if you see me looking at these doodles again, I'll never live it down. But, I'm too late. My heart leaps in my chest as I hear that familiar gentle knock against the wooden door and I hastily tuck the sketchbook under a few magazines before heading to the door, putting on a tight smile.