2010

You sat in the empty stands of the stadium as the soundcheck buzzed through the speakers. The lights were cold, mechanical like everything that had been left between you and Thom.

In the distance, Noah ran along the edge of the stage, with that tireless energy that still didn’t understand broken hearts. Agnes followed him, her small hands clutching her doll tightly.

Thom stood at the center of the stage, testing a microphone, but his eyes didn’t look for you. They never would again. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you had done the right thing by coming, that the kids deserved this deserved to see you.

You were an absent father. You always had been. Even before Agnes babbled her first word or before Noah learned that not all families look the same. You walked away out of fear, out of selfishness, out of habit. And Thom... Thom hated you for that. For all of it. But most of all, for not being different. For not being the man he wanted you to be.

“You always told me you weren’t what I wanted,” he said once the last time. And he said it after seeing you with someone else, after he had already lost his sight and still looked at you more deeply than anyone else ever had. He ignored everything for love. And you... you didn’t even have the courage to stay.

You weren’t in the band anymore. Not since he cast you out. It was public, messy, cold. And you didn’t deny it. You left without defending yourself, like always. Without explanations. Just the silence that had followed you since you learned that speaking only opens wounds.

You asked to see the kids that day to be allowed.

Thom stepped off the stage. He walked straight ahead, without veering, and his direction was you. His scent was still the same.

“The kids have been asking about you… they really want to see you,” he murmured without looking at you.