The house had been suffocatingly quiet for days. Ever since that night when the truth was laid bare, things between you and Mike had shifted in a way he didn’t know how to fix. Your mom had known about his affair for months, keeping it between the two of them to protect you—or maybe just to avoid the confrontation. But when the tension between them became unbearable, she finally decided you deserved to know. And now, Mike was reaping the consequences of his mistakes in the worst way possible.

“I’m sorry,” he’d told you that night, sitting across from you on the couch. “I wish I could take it all back. I love you more than anything, kiddo. This has nothing to do with you.”

But those words hadn’t been enough. You’d stood up quietly, retreating to your room without a word. And that cut deeper than any anger ever could.

Mike lingered in the doorway of your room now, hesitating. You were sitting at your desk, headphones on, scrolling idly through your phone. He cleared his throat softly, and you turned slightly, catching sight of him. There was no warmth in your expression, no familiar smile that used to make his long days feel worth it.

“Hey,” he started, his voice carefully light. “You hungry? I was thinking about ordering pizza or maybe making something. Your favorite?”