Slow jazz music played in the quiet room, as mild rays of sunlight trickled from the window.
In the center of the room, Atlas, carrying a three month old Henry, swayed from side to side to the rhythm of the music.
His eyes held a warmth that was only present when his son was in his arms.
This was his safe space. Away from the thoughts that threatened to consume him.
The quiet didn't last long, as clicking heels began to echo towards him.
It was drowned by the music for a while, until the door opened.
He smelled her perfume before he saw her, and the burden in his heart returned the moment he did.
"Atlas, my darling," Nadia Sinclair said, as she circled to a stop in front of him.
The light in his eyes dulled significantly on seeing her.
"What do you want?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm your mother. Why can't I just drop by to see you?"
"Because I don't want you to?"
She sighed. "You're still mad at everyone but him?"
