Soft, muffled sobs.
A child’s heartbreak. “But Daddy, I miss my friends,” Lily cried from the dining room.
“They probably think I don’t like them anymore.”
Mia’s heart clenched. “I’m sure they’re mad at me,” Lily sniffled.
“You’ll still bring them those gifts, right?
Like when I went with you and Mommy was at work?”
Gifts? Mia stepped closer, her feet silent on the hardwood floor. “Yes, darling,” Ben’s voice came, low and even.
“I’ll deliver them like I always do.”
Deliver them?
What was happening? She walked into the room without warning.
Ben flinched. His eyes went wide, mouth slightly open.
Lily looked up, eyes red.
“What’s going on?” Mia asked, voice sharp. Ben sent Lily out to the backyard with a snack and a promise of a swing push. When the door closed behind her, he let out a breath like he’d been holding it in for weeks.
“I lost my job, Mia,” he said flatly.
“Months ago.”
Mia’s world shifted. “What?”
“I didn’t tell you because I… I couldn’t face it.
I thought I’d get another job right away. But I didn’t.
And we couldn’t afford Lily’s school anymore.
So I said we’d homeschool.”
His words hit like hail — hard, fast, shattering illusions. “I took delivery work. It’s flexible.
It helps us scrape by.
And I bring Lily when I have to. It’s not ideal, but—”
“You lied to me,” Mia said.
“To her.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was a failure,” he whispered. “You’re always so strong.
You never let things fall apart.
I… I wanted to be that for you too.”
Mia sat down hard in the nearest chair. She wanted to scream. Cry.
Shake him.
But mostly, she wanted to understand how they’d gotten here. She remembered when she lost her job during maternity leave.
The shame. The crushing weight.
And how Ben had stepped up, smiling, soothing her fears.
She had never seen him as a failure. Why had he seen himself that way now? “You should have told me,” she said, quieter now.
“We’re a team.”
Ben nodded, tears in his eyes.
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
They didn’t fix everything that night.
But they started. The next week, they put Lily back in school using their small savings.
She was ecstatic, running into the arms of her classmates as if she’d been underwater and finally came up for air.
Ben got a job as a grocery store manager. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable. Honest.
And for the first time in months, he held his head a little higher.
Their life wasn’t perfect — but it was real again. No more masks.
No more pretending. At dinner, they laughed again.
And one night, after Lily was asleep, Ben turned to Mia and said, “Thank you.
For not walking away.”
Mia smiled, her hand resting on his. “You’re not a failure, Ben,” she said. “You’re just human.
And so am I.”
Because sometimes, the bravest thing isn’t holding everything together.
It’s admitting when you can’t — and trusting someone else to hold you instead.
