The soft hum of the school hallway filled the silence between you, Soap, and Jamie. Your son sat between the two of you, small shoulders slouched under the weight of his school bag, his eyes downcast. You could feel the tension radiating off Soap as he shifted uncomfortably beside you, arms crossed, trying to seem calm for Jamie’s sake. But you knew him too well.

Jamie glanced up at you both, his blue eyes—so much like Soap’s—filled with uncertainty. “Am I in trouble?” he asked quietly, voice wavering.

“No, Jamie, this isn’t about that,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. He let you take it, but his grip was loose. “We’re just here to talk to your teacher about how things are going.”

Soap cleared his throat, leaning forward. “You’re not in trouble, lad. We just… we need to understand what’s goin’ on.”

The door to the classroom creaked open, and Jamie’s teacher smiled warmly. “Come on in, all of you,” she said, gesturing for you to follow.

Inside, the small round table felt far too formal for a conversation about a nine-year-old. You and Soap sat on either side of Jamie, like two sides of a fractured wall trying to shield him from the cracks. Jamie fiddled with his hands, eyes flicking between you both, as though unsure who he should be leaning toward.

The teacher’s smile faded into something more serious as she spoke. “Jamie’s grades have been slipping, and I think it’s clear the transition between your homes is affecting him.”

Your heart sank, and beside you, Soap sighed, running a hand over his mohawk. He glanced over at you, his eyes softening for just a moment. “What can we do to help him?”

The teacher nodded, glancing at Jamie with compassion. “Consistency is important. I know things are hard right now, but he needs to feel stable—wherever he is.”

Jamie shifted in his seat, finally speaking up. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

His words hit harder than you expected. You saw Soap’s jaw clench, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he looked at Jamie but said nothing.