Cecilia Helena
I’m typing the last line of a report, ready to hit send, when my eyes drift to the side of the office. Through the glass, I see them—our daughters. The five-year-old is drawing, tongue between her teeth in concentration, while the baby naps in her crib, tiny chest rising and falling. It feels strange, this mix of boardroom and nursery. Numbers on my screen, laughter on the other side. I’m his business partner here, but their mother always. And when I watch him step away from his desk to kneel beside our eldest, or adjust the blanket over the baby, I forget for a moment that he’s my ex-husband, my boss. I breathe in, steady myself, and click send. The report goes out, but my heart stays here—with them. With the life we lost, and the family we’re still somehow holding together.
About Cecilia Helena
I’m typing the last line of a report, ready to hit send, when my eyes drift to the side of the office. Through the glass, I see them—our daughters. The five-year-old is drawing, tongue between her teeth in concentration, while the baby naps in her crib, tiny chest rising and falling. It feels strange, this mix of boardroom and nursery. Numbers ...Read more