bSienna’s /bPOV

I stepped out of the kitchen and my eyes immediately found Noah sitting cross–legged bin /bthe living room. His small frame hunched over the tiny table, crayons in bhand/b, busy scribbling on his drawing paper. I walked slowly, making my way toward him.

“Noah,” I called softly.

He didn’t respond, but smiled when he realized I was there. There was a simpleb, /binnocent joy in his smile that warmed my heart, if only slightly.

“What are you drawing?” I askedb, /bcrouching beside him.

Without hesitation, he held up the paper and showed it to me proudly. “This is my familyb./b”

I looked at the drawing. There were three figures, sketched with bright, cheerful colors. In the bcenter/b, a small child with the name Noah written above him. On the left, a man with ck hair and a tie–clearly Liam. And on the bright/b… a woman with long hair in a red dress. Emily. Her name was written, too.

I wasn’t in the picture.

I wasn’t part of that family.

My smile faded instantly, though I quickly masked it. I swallowed and forced the corners of my mouth to lift again.

b“/bThat’s beautiful,” bI /bsaid, my voice slightly btrembling/b. “bSo /bcolorful. Aunt Emily’s wearing a red dress,

huh?”

Noah nodded eagerly, proud. “Yep! Aunt Emily likes red. Daddy says she looks pretty in red.”

“Oh…” I nodded slowly, bmy /beyes still fixed on the bdrawing/b. My gaze lingered on the empty space where maybe I should’ve been

but wasn’t. In Noah’s little world, bI /bhad already been reced. Erased, beven/b.

Without realizing it, I rubbed my chest. That crushing feeling returned, tightening bfrom /bwithin. But I kept smiling, kept trying to look calm in front of Noah. He had no idea how those colorful crayons were quietly tearing my heart to shreds.

“Why isn’t Mommy in the picture?” I asked softly, bbarely /bba /bwhisper.

Noah shrugged, his answer innocent. “Because Mommy’s not part of the family anymore, righ

The words struck like a de.

bI /bwanted to reply. To say I was still his family. That I never stopped being his mother. But my voice was gone–swallowed by pain too deep to name.

Noah turned back to his drawing, adding a few extra colors. I remained there beside him, staring at the paper, trying to memorize its shape, its colors, and the ache it left bbehind/b.

Because maybe, when I’m truly gone one day, that might be the only piece of memory left–even if bI /bwasn’t in it.

I exhaled, swallowing all the bitterness, and as I was about to stand, my eyes identally caught a new photo frame that had reced mine. Its ss gleamed, and its position was impossible to miss, as if deliberately ced so everyone would see it.

I stepped closer. Slowly.

Inside the frame was a photo of Noahb, /bsmiling brightly between Liam and Emily. Three people. Perfect. As if they were always meant to be. As if bthat /bwas what a “family” was supposed to look like.

But… I wasn’t there.

bThere /bwas no Sienna.

My hand gently brushed the frame’s bss/b. I stared at Noah’s grin–the same smile I used to see when I held him. And Liam… smiling with pride. Then Emily, standing confidently between them, as if she belonged there. In the spot that once was bmine/b.

Suddenly Noah looked over at the frame. “That’s our new photo,” he said proudly.

I tried to smile. “Yes, Mommy sees it.”

But that bsmile /bslowly faded, and I couldn’t stop the question that slipped out, a quiet sigh more than anything. “Why isn’t Mommy in that photo too?”

…as if the a

Noah shrugged casuallyb, /bas if the answer was simple.

“Mommy doesn’t belong in it, right? Mommy’s not part of the family anymore.”

My world stopped spinning. His words weren’t meant to be cruel. He didn’t say them in anger. He just… spoke the truth. The kind of truth only children can offer–with a rity that cuts deeper than anything else.

I turned slowly toward Liam, hoping he’d say something. Disagree, maybe. But he didn’t. He just stood there–expressionless. No denial, no exnation, not even a flicker of guilt. His silence was consent.

Emily stood nearby. Her gaze held a quiet satisfaction, and she made no move to stop Noah. No correction. No change of topic. She simply let the moment unravel–just as she always did–allowing it to tear apart the only person who had never truly been weed from the beginning.

I held my breath for a moment, then forced a stiff bsmile/b.

“If Mommy really doesn’t belong…” I looked at Noah gently, trying to stay strong even though my eyes burned. “Mommy won’t be here much longer.”

Noah gave a small nod, then turned and ran toward Emily, unaware of everything

His smile was wide. The kind of smile he used to save just for me.

He hugged Emily tightly, so bwarm/bb, /blike she was his only home now. Like she was the shelter that once was bmine/b.

“Auntie, let’s read a story!” Noah shouted, beaming up at Liam.

Liam bent down, ruffled Noah’s hair gently, and nodded.

“Daddy,e too!” Noah said.

Then, without hesitation, he took Emily’s hand and Liam’s hand at the same time–like a little child clinging to hisplete, perfect family. His tiny fingers clutched theirs tightly, as if afraid to let go.

I could only stand frozen in the corner. Watching the scene I once dreamed of. But now… I was just a spectator in my own home.

“Let’s go! To the bedroom!” Noah giggled, tugging both of their hands up the stairs.

They followed without protest. Emily smiled warmly. Liam matched Noah’s pace.

Their footsteps faded upstairs, soft but loud in my ears. Echoing. Pounding in my chest.

I wanted to call Noah’s name. To say I could still read bhim /bbedtime stories. That I still remembered every word of his favorite book. But my lips wouldn’t move. Something invisible held them shut..

I could only stare nkly, watching btheir /bshadows disappear behind the stairs.