I Was Never Just Your Wife

I returned from my week-long business trip a day early, expecting the familiar, warm chaos of coming home. Instead, the house was dead silent. In the middle of the living room floor sat my six-year-old son, Toby, quietly drawing by himself.

Stacked on the small table next to him were several loaves of packaged sandwich bread.

I frowned, stepping forward. When Toby looked up and saw me, his face lit up with pure joy.

"Mom! You’re home!"

I pulled him into a tight embrace, then reached over to check the bread on the table.