Your Apathy, My Farewell
Language: en
Eighteen years after our divorce, I saw Aiden again at my daughter’s parent-teacher conference. She was a senior in high school. The homeroom teacher asked the two of us to stay behind. She slid a letter across her desk, stopping it in front of him. “Mr. Griffin,” she said, her tone crisp, “this is a love letter your son wrote to Lily. We’re in the final stretch of senior year. A romance now is a serious distraction. I trust you’ll have a firm talk with him when you get home.” Aiden just stood there, his eyes locked on me, completely frozen. He didn't say a word. The teacher had to clear…