He was holding an overnight bag.
“Just tell me whether you still want to come here,” he said.
My son stared at the floor.
I stepped into the room. “He does not have to answer right now.”
After the separation, I had kept these visits going because my sons stepfather had helped raise him. I thought preserving that relationship would make everything easier.
I had not asked whether weekends were what my son wanted.
On the way home, he whispered, “If I miss you, he thinks I dont love him. If I have fun there, I think youll be sad.”
I stopped the car.
“You never have to choose which adult deserves your love.”
We paused the overnights. His stepfather agreed that questions about the future belonged between adults, not on a ten-year-olds shoulders.
Later, he sent one short message: “I am sorry I put you in that position. You dont owe me an answer.”
My son read it twice.
A month later, he asked whether they could get lunch together.
“Just lunch,” he added.
“Just lunch,” I promised.
This time, he helped make the plan.