“After school?”
“After school.”
He nodded.
She left.
The party continued.
When the cupcakes came out, Teddy stood beside his chair.
Sebastian looked up.
“What is it?”
His son hesitated.
Then he sat down again.
“Forgot.”
Sebastian understood.
No tray.
No performance.
No points.
Just cake.
Nell asked whether she could have the cupcake with too much icing.
Teddy handed it over.
Mara nudged Sebastian gently.
“Don’t turn that into a lesson.”
He almost smiled.
He had been about to praise his son for generosity.
Instead, he asked which cupcake Teddy wanted.
“The one that looks broken.”
“Why?”
“It’s bigger.”
Sebastian handed it to him.
Across the table, his son ate icing with complete concentration.
He did not thank every person in the room.
He did not earn a single tick.
He had a very good afternoon.
Afterward, life became less dramatic and more demanding.
Sebastian could not prove himself with one party.
There were Mondays.
Homework.
A fever that ruined a weekend plan.
A school project requiring cardboard at eight in the evening.
Teddy sometimes tested the new certainty.
He interrupted a call deliberately.
He refused to put away his shoes.
Once, angry about bedtime, he shouted that his father only cared because everyone saw what happened at dinner.
The words hurt.
Sebastian nearly answered from that hurt.
Then he saw his son’s face.
Teddy was waiting for the limit of the promise.
For the moment he became too much trouble to remain loved.
Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed.
“I cared before dinner. I didn’t pay enough attention. Both things are true.”
His son looked away.
