Page 11 of October
" but I heard you. I see it now...I've stayed quiet about things I should've spoken up about. I've let myself be small. And that taught you something I never meant to teach."
Still no response. But he was listening.
"I've been showing you what it looks like to love someone more than you love yourself. And that's not okay. I see that now."
His jaw shifted. Tension.
"I'm sorry, Jem. Truly. For all of it. But I'm not going to keep living like that. I'm going to fight for me, and for you, and Alice and Lola. For the love we all deserve."
My voice shook at the end. I reached over and brushed the hair off his forehead. He didn't move away.
"I love you more than I know how to say."
For a long time, silence. Then, just as I stood up, his voice came—quiet, rough.
"I love you too Mom."
I froze.
"I just want you to love yourself," he added, barely a whisper.
I bit down a sob and nodded, kissing his forehead.
"I'm learning," I whispered. "I promise."
The bedroom was dim when I walked in. Thomas was sitting on the edge of the bed like he was waiting for something.
"We need to talk," he said. "Now that we've both calmed down."
I folded my arms. "Do we?"
"I think we should," he said, standing. "I didn't want to when things were hot, but I've had time to think. About your birthday. And I want to apologize."
I let out a small, humorless laugh. "This isn't about my birthday, Thomas."
He frowned, confused. "Okay... then what's it about?"
“It's about patterns,” I said, pulling open my drawer, searching for something comfortable to sleep in. "It's about how you've consistently prioritized everything else—especially her—over your own family."
"Her?" he asked, voice rising.
"Laura."
He stood. "Jesus, October, Nothing is going on between me and Laura.."
I looked at him, really looked at him. "I don't believe you."
His jaw dropped like I'd slapped him.
"Unbelievable," he muttered. "You know how busy I've been—"
"I know," I cut in. "Busy helping her. Busy being there for her. At my expense. You ignore birthdays. Date nights. Bedtime stories. But she needs a file reviewed or a late meeting? You're there."
"She's a coworker."
"Sheshould'vebeen a boundary."
His brow furrowed, confusion painted across his face like he couldn't recognize me anymore.
