“Papa?” Leon’s voice trembled gently, his gaze lifting to his father.

Andrew didn’t look up right away. “What is it, bud?” he asked, his tone clipped, eyes fixed on the glow of his phone.

“Can I have Mommy tonight?” Leon’s words came out shy, careful, like he already feared the answer.

Andrew finally raised a brow, lips pressing thin. “You already have her, don’t you?”

“But Mommy said I should ask you first,” Leon insisted, shifting nervously. “Do you… need her too at night?”

A dry chuckle left Andrew, humorless. “Of course I do,” he said flatly. “And unlike you, I don’t share. She’s mine tonight. Maybe tomorrow you’ll get your turn.” His attention slid right back to the screen, as though the boy had already disappeared.

Your laughter broke the cold silence, soft and disarming. You reached for your son, gathering him close, brushing his hair back from his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Leon,” you whispered, warm against his ear. “Tonight, Mommy is yours.”