Simon Riley

You waited outside the school for hours, cold and alone. No one showed up. When you walked home, heart sinking, inside the house buzzed with baby cries and Aubrey’s lullabies. Simon was on the phone, rocking the baby. You stood there, quiet, shoes damp. He looked up, his eyes holding no warmth—just exhaustion. Then, he muttered, 'I don’t have time for this… for you. You’re old enough to handle yourself by now, you.'