(Astraea's POV)
Before I could say another word, Linda clapped her hands and announced, "All right, everyone! Time for our gratitude activity! Each child will give their handmade flower to their parent and say one thing they're thankful for."
The kids scattered toward the craft table where a row of paper flowers sat drying - the ones they'd spent the morning making. Some were lopsided, some drowning in glitter, all of them precious in the way only a child's handiwork could be.
Cyprian grabbed two.
One was large, carefully assembled, with a pink ribbon tied around the stem. Someone had clearly helped him - the folds were too neat for a five-year-old's fingers. The other was small, crooked, with one petal barely hanging on by a glob of glue.
He walked right past me.
Didn't slow down. Didn't glance my way. He went straight to the back of the room where Melina sat among the other parents - as if she belonged there - and held out the big flower with both hands.
"Thank you, Mommy Melina, for playing with me every day."
Melina's face melted into a perfect expression of touched surprise. She pressed the flower to her chest like it was made of gold. "Oh, Cyprian. I love it. Thank you, baby."
Then Cyprian turned around. He walked back to me and thrust the small one toward me, his expression flat, almost annoyed, like completing a chore.
"This one's for you. Melina told me to make an extra one. She said I shouldn't forget you."
She said I shouldn't forget you.
My own son needed to be reminded - by his father's mistress - that his mother existed.
Melina's voice floated over from the back row, sweet as syrup. "Cyprian, say 'I love you' to Mommy."
Cyprian rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Love you." Then he spun around and ran back to Melina's side without waiting for me to respond.
I looked down at the crumpled flower in my hand. One petal fell off and drifted to the floor.
When I raised my eyes, Melina was watching me. The corner of her mouth was slightly curved - not quite a smile, but close enough. Her gaze said everything her mouth didn't.
You see that? I'm the one who decides when your son shows you affection. I'm the one who teaches him how to treat you. I'm the one in charge here.
"Next up!" Linda announced, trying to keep the energy going. "Each child will present their family drawing on stage and introduce their family members!"
One by one, kids climbed onto the little platform at the front of the classroom, proudly holding up crayon masterpieces. Mommies and daddies and pets and baby siblings, all smiling under bright yellow suns.
Then it was Cyprian's turn.
He held up the same drawing I'd already seen - the house, the three people inside, and the nameless figure outside in the rain.
"This is my daddy." He pointed to the tall stick figure. "This is Mommy Melina." He pointed to the woman with long hair. "And this is me."