I almost turned back the moment I saw it—an extra place set at the table, my husband’s old chair pulled out like he’d be home any second. “Who is that for?” I whispered, forcing a laugh that wouldn’t come. My son’s face drained of color. His hands shook as he gripped the fork. “Mom,” he said, voice cracking, “we need to tell you the truth… about Dad.” The candles flickered—then the doorbell rang.
I almost turned back the moment I saw it—an extra place set at the table, my husband’s old chair pulled out like he’d be home any second. “Who is that for?” I whispered, forcing a laugh that wouldn’t come. My son’s face drained of color. His hands shook as he gripped the fork. “Mom,” he…