Their reactions seemed perfectly natural, so normal that I couldn't see any flaw. Still, the more normal it seemed, the more uneasy I felt. After Ruby and Alice left, I looked at my son. He was quietly sitting at the table, eating his breakfast obediently. My eyes welled up. I couldn't shake the memory of his lifeless body, drowning in that pond in my past life.
How terrified must my son have been in his final moments? Holding back the lump in my throat, I sat beside my son and gently asked, "Ronan, how have your mom and grandma been treating you lately?"
He replied with a bright, innocent smile, "They've been really good to me, Dad."
I paused momentarily before continuing, "And what about your teacher? How does he treat you?"
"He's great! He takes good care of me at kindergarten!" His response was natural and straightforward, his small face glowing with happiness.
Then he blinked his big, bright eyes, looking confused. "Dad, I don't feel sick today. Why aren't we going to school?"
I stroked his soft cheek, my heart aching. "Because Dad can't bear to be apart from you."