“That’s not enough this time,” she replied. “We’ve talked about this. I’ll be calling your parents today.”
A few students shifted in their seats.
Ethan lowered his head.
His cheeks burned.
No one knew.
No one understood.
He walked slowly to his desk and sat down, staring at his scratched hands resting on the surface.
For a moment, doubt crept in.
Had he done the right thing?
He clenched his fingers.
Yes.
He would do it again.
Even if no one believed him.
Even if he got in trouble.
At recess, a few kids whispered.
“Late again.”
“He’s always late.”
Someone laughed.
Ethan sat alone on the edge of the playground, quiet, replaying the baby’s face in his mind—the heat, the silence, the way the cries had faded.
He hugged his knees.
At least the baby was okay.
That had to be enough.
Back in the classroom, just as the next lesson was about to begin, there was a knock at the door.
Mrs. Reynolds looked up.
“Yes?”
The door opened.
The principal stepped in.
Behind him—
The woman.
Holding the baby.
Ethan’s heart stopped.
“Mrs. Reynolds,” the principal said, “we need a moment.”
The room shifted instantly.
The woman stepped forward, her eyes already filled with tears.
She looked straight at Ethan.