I sank into the chair beside him, clutching my bag tightly in my lap. I wanted to speak, to tell him everything I had buried all these years—all the apologies I had been holding back, but the words tangled in my throat.
Instead, I leaned forward, my voice barely a whisper.
"Hi, Cairo… Mommy's here again."
The silence of the room wrapped around my trembling words.
I stared at his hand resting on the blanket, so small, so fragile-looking.
How many times had he longed for me? How many times had he asked where I was, only to be met with silence in return?
This time, I didn't stop myself. Slowly, carefully, I reached out and laid my hand over his.
Warmth met my palm, and tears instantly blurred my vision. I held on gently, afraid of breaking him, yet unwilling to let go.
"I'm sorry…" The apology slipped out, broken and trembling. "I should have been here… I should have never left you."
