Page 3 of Bratva's Intern

Her throat worked like she was trying to swallow something big and heavy. “Sweetheart…” she said gently, but the way her voice cracked made my stomach twist.

“No.” I shook my head fast. “No. He promised, Mom. He said he’d be here. He told me.”

She came closer and crouched down, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Wren, listen to me. Sometimes… sometimes things happen with work. He really wanted to be here. He did.”

Warmth rushed up the back of my neck. My face crumpled, and I balled my fists at my sides.

“You’re lying!” I shouted, my voice shaking. “He said he would be here. He’s coming!”

Her eyes went all shiny again, and her face twisted like I’d just punched her right in the stomach.

“Honey…” she whispered, but her mouth trembled. “If he’s not here, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He loves you so much, Wren. So much.”

And then, right there in front of me, she broke.

She turned away fast, pressing her hands to her face, shoulders shaking as she ran up the stairs.

I stood there frozen. My throat felt tight and itchy. The house was too quiet now, except for Mom crying upstairs.

I didn’t want her to cry because of me. Dad would be disappointed in me. He always told me that we were supposed to look after Mom. That we should never make her cry, and I should listen to everything she said. But it was hard to listen when she told me he wouldn’t be home for my birthday.

My chest hurt as I slowly climbed the stairs. Each stepfelt harder than the last. Outside their bedroom door, I knocked softly.

“Mom?” I called, my voice way smaller now. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

Shuffling footsteps came closer, and the door opened a little. Mom’s face was blotchy, and her nose was red. I looked down at my feet because I couldn’t look at her like that.

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” I whispered.

She pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe, but I didn’t pull away. I hugged her back, squeezing my eyes shut as she rubbed my back.

“It’s okay, honey,” she whispered into my hair. “We’re okay. You and me… we’ll be okay.”

I nodded against her shoulder, even though I wasn’t sure I believed her.

Dad was coming home. He had to. He promised.

The rest of the day felt strange. Off. Like wearing my shirt backward but not knowing how to fix it.

I played my new video game for a little while, but I kept glancing at the clock. I ate dinner, but it tasted like cardboard. At every sound outside, I perked up, hoping it was a car door slamming or keys in the lock.

Nothing.

By the time it got dark, Mom came into the living room, carrying the birthday cake. The candles flickered in the dim room. She smiled softly, but her eyes still looked sad.

“Come on, Wren. Let’s make your wish and blow them out,” she said gently.

I shook my head stubbornly. My throat tightened all over again.

“No.” I pushed the cake away slightly. “I’m not doing it until Dad comes home. He promised he would be here.”

Her face crumpled again. She didn’t argue. She just leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Okay, sweet boy. Okay.”

I left the cake untouched and went upstairs, not bothering to change into pajamas. I climbed onto my bed, dragging the blanket around me like a cape, but I couldn’t sleep.

The window called to me.

I padded over to it and pressed my forehead to the glass, staring down the quiet street. Porch lights glowed softly, but no headlights beamed up the driveway. No car.

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