I thought he was simply breaking under the pressure.
I hugged him.
But the next morning, his suitcase was beside the front door.
“Daniel?”
He couldn’t look me in the eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
And then he left.
I was alone.
I told Leo that his father had to leave for a few days.
He asked only one question.
“Will Dad be back for Christmas?”
I swallowed hard.
“I hope so.”
In December, I put up a small Christmas tree in our living room.
One evening, Leo sat at the table and started writing something.
“What are you writing?” I asked.
He immediately covered the paper with his hand.
“A letter to Santa.”
I smiled.
“What do you want this year?”
“I’m not telling you.”
He folded the letter, put it inside an envelope, and looked at me very seriously.
“Mom, don’t read it.”
“I promise.”
Two days later, Leo was at the hospital for another examination.
