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Olivia’s POV:
I was about to leave, tears burning in my eyes, when the teacher’s voice called out behind me.
“Wait! Please, just a moment.” She hurried over, her face creased with concern. “I think we should sort this out properly.”
My feet felt heavy as I turned back. The whispers hadn’t stopped, but now they held a note of uncertainty.
“Oliver,” the teacher called out firmly. “Come here right now.”
Oliver dragged his feet as he approached, shooting annoyed glances at Rachel, who still stood by the playground equipment.
“Oliver,” the teacher crouched down to his level, her voice gentle but serious. “I need you to think very carefully about what you’re saying. This is a very serious matter. Are you absolutely sure about what you told us?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me the same thing?” Oliver’s voice rose with frustration. “I already said Rachel is my mom! She picks me up every day! She helps me with my homework! She makes me special snacks!” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “That lady just keeps showing up and saying she’s my mom, but she’s not! She’s never here!”
Each word felt like a knife twisting in my chest. Where was my sweet little boy who used to run to me with skinned knees and bad
dreams?
“Oliver James Winters!”
Derek’s voice cracked across the playground like thunder. I hadn’t even heard him approach.
Our son’s face went pale as Derek strode up to us, his expression thunderous. “What do you think you’re doing, speaking to your
mother that way?”
“But Dad-” Oliver started.
