“What’s going on?” He stares at the folded piece of paper on his lap. “I’m sorry.” I blink. “What for?” “Keeping my eyes a secret.” “It’s okay.” “No, it’s not.” He unfolds the paper. Bile crawls up my throat as one of Nico’s tears splashes against the photocopied page Ellie made of my high school yearbook. There is a rip down the center of the page, splitting my face in two. I was so focused on hating Ellie’s stupid smile tracker that I missed how much it meant to my son. Another way you failed him. “I just wanted you to be happy.” The paper shakes in his hand. “I am happy.” I ditch my seat
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