Going Up | ✓

Time To Rebuild - (22)

Time To Rebuild.

'Mommy!'

I feel a tug on my hand and I glance down to see my son staring up at me with a frown marring his features.

It's Tuesday evening - three days since I last saw Ivan - and we're in the kitchen, making dinner. Well, I'm making dinner to the sound of the radio while Oliver sits quietly at the table, reading.

'Yes?' I murmur, crouching down next to him. 'Are you okay?'

He shakes his head, the frown only growing more pronounced. 'No.'

Something rips through my gut and I immediately take his hands in mine, searching every inch of his face in desperate search of an answer. 'Why not? What's happened?'

He looks at me with such heartbroken eyes my own almost overflow with tears, not that that's been very difficult for me recently.

I've been a mess since I pushed Ivan out of my life on Saturday morning. I've plunged into baking, cleaning, going to the gym and spending time with my son but each of these things haven't distracted me from the problem.

I miss him.

I miss the man I desperately want to be able to live without, but each day begins with an aching that starts from my heart and spreads right to my fingertips. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the most painful thing I've experienced in years.

'You're not,' Oliver mumbles quietly, resting his head against my shoulder.

It's my turn to frown. 'I'm not what, honey?'

'Happy,' he grumbles, leaning back so his eyes meet mine. 'You're not happy.'

Unadulterated pain slashes through me and I almost fall over at the impact of his hurt gaze.

He's hurting because I'm hurting. I'll be damned if that doesn't make me feel like a bad mother.

'You've been sad since you picked me up on Saturday,' he murmurs, playing with my fingers. 'I want you to be happy, Mommy.'

The tears threaten to boil over and slip down my carefully arranged mask that covers my face. 'Honey,' I sigh, wrapping my arms around my favourite person in the world and pulling him close to me. 'I'm okay, you don't need to worry about me. I'm just tired,' I lie, with guilt consuming me from every angle.

He bites his lip and looks a little uncertain - it makes me wonder how one earth he's so smart for a six year old - but he just nods and buries his face into my shoulder again. 'Promise me you'll be happy.'

It hits me that even after everything, Oliver and I are a team, we've spent the last six years together and I'd never let anyone ruin that.

But would Ivan have ruined it, or would he have just made it better? Would he have made parenthood easier? He would have given Oliver someone else to depend upon and there wouldn't be times when you worried about having enough money for everything. You know full well he'd support you both financially without batting an eyelid.

I close my eyes in frustration, shaking my head. 'I will,' I murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. 'Honestly. Once this week's over and the weekend comes around, it'll be okay. We can do something nice together, okay?'

An excited grin comes across his face. 'Mommy, can we go to the park and feed the ducks?' he asks, a hopeful look plastering his face.

'Of course,' I agree easily. 'I'll buy us some bread and we can go there, as well as going somewhere for lunch, how does that sound?'