I woke up before dawn, the house quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. Lucas’s first day of school was today, and I wanted every detail perfect. I stood in the kitchen, ironing his new shirt, the same way my mother used to do for me. He was starting first grade, a milestone I’d dreamed of sharing with my husband, Travis. But our marriage hadn’t felt like a partnership in a long time.

Travis had fallen asleep on the couch again, an empty beer can rolling under the coffee table, the glow of ESPN replays flickering across his face. I nudged his shoulder. “Travis, wake up. It’s a big day.”

He mumbled, turned away, and waved me off. Ten years of marriage had taught me to lower my expectations, but Lucas had been excited for weeks, asking every day if Daddy would be there. I promised him he would.

The morning light spilled through the windows as I packed Lucas’s lunch. His little face beamed with excitement. “Daddy’s coming, right?” he asked, tightening the straps of his backpack.

“Of course,” I said, forcing a smile. I wanted it to be true.

But when it was time to leave, Travis only groaned, “I’ll meet you there later,” and rolled over. Continues…