Come help me with these branches,” I said, deflecting as I always did.

Leo squatted beside me, his thin arms picking up the smaller twigs. “Michael’s dad came to school today for the festival. And Sarah’s dad brought her a new backpack. And—”

“I know,” I interrupted gently. “I know all the other children have fathers.”

“So where’s mine?”

Ten years. A decade had passed since the day my world fell apart, and I still didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t break his heart the way mine had been broken.

“Your father…” I started, then stopped. How do you explain to a child that the man who helped create him vanished like smoke before he was born? “Your father loved you very much,” I finally said, the same hollow words I’d repeated countless times. “But he had to go away.”