She stayed for dinner. Cooper talked non-stop about a documentary he had watched on dinosaurs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging between Diane and me. Diane listened intently, just as she always did, and I couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt — how comfortable she looked in my space again. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed.
After dinner, Cooper asked if Diane could stay to watch a movie. I looked at her, and then she looked at me. We exchanged a glance, one that carried more weight than I realized.
“It’s up to your dad,” she said, her voice soft.
“It’s fine,” I said, giving in. Why not? It was just a movie, right?
We sat on the couch, Cooper nestled between us as we watched The Incredibles. Cooper fell asleep about forty minutes from the end, just like he used to when he was younger, his head resting against Diane’s shoulder. That was the moment when everything seemed to slip back into place, like I could still hear the echoes of our old life. The life where we were a family, a unit, a team.
But things were different now. Things had changed.
The Night That Changed Everything
After the movie ended, I glanced over at Diane. She was looking down at Cooper, her expression soft and unguarded. For a moment, she looked like she used to — the woman I had married. The woman I had loved. But then, something shifted, and I saw a sadness in her eyes that I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just sadness, though. It was something else — something deeper. Something unresolved.
“I should go,” she said quietly, as if waking from a dream.
“It’s almost ten,” I said. “And it’s forty minutes back to Durham.”
