I Thought Sending My Son to His Father Was the Right Choice—Until I Realized He Needed Me More Than Ever

His face softened in his sleep, like his whole body had finally decided it was safe to let go. The next morning, he sat at the kitchen table and asked if I still had his old robot mug, the one with the chipped handle he’d had since he was seven.

I found it in the back of the cupboard, buried behind mugs I never used. When he smiled down into it, I continue reading …