Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 243

Wren stood up.

"Breakfast is over for today."

Eleanor stood up as well. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean this table is no longer a suitable place for a child to listen to these remarks."

Wren took Leo by the hand.

Lawrence got up. "I'll drive you."

"No need." Wren didn't look at him. "I'll take him today."

Lawrence's face darkened. "Wren."

She stopped in her tracks.

Everyone in the dining room stared at her.

Wren glanced back, her gaze flat.

"Lawrence, you were sitting right here just now."

That single sentence rendered Lawrence completely speechless.

Yes, he was there.

He had watched his mother bring up last night, and he had seen the milk spill from his son's cup.

But he was still a step too late.

Or rather, it was his habit to wait until things were on the verge of spiraling out of control before stepping in to stop them.

Wren didn't say another word.

She led Leo out of the dining room.

The car ride to school was dead silent.

Leo hugged his backpack, staring out the window. Steam rose from a breakfast stall on the sidewalk, where a kid in a school uniform held his grandfather's hand, munching on a sandwich as they walked.

Wren didn't rush to speak.

As they neared the school, Leo suddenly spoke up. "Mom."

"Hmm?"

"Was I being a bad boy just now?"

Wren pulled the car over to the curb.

She turned to look at him. "Why would you ask that?"

The boy lowered his head, murmuring, "Grandma said I was talking back."

"You weren't talking back," Wren said. "You were just telling Grandma that you didn't like her talking about me that way."

Leo looked up.

Wren met his eyes. "Expressing that you don't like something doesn't make you bad."

The boy seemed to let out a breath of relief.

"Leo, you don't have to be just like me," she said. "Just because I don't like a place doesn't mean you can't feel differently. If you like Dad, if you like Great-Grandma, if you like the koi pond there, that's completely fine."

The boy's muffled voice came out. "Then can I also not like it when Grandma says mean things about you?"

"Yes."

"Can I not like it when Dad stays quiet?"

Wren squeezed her eyes shut.

"Yes."

Leo threw his arms around her neck and finally began to softly cry.

He cried with restraint, his shoulders shaking, too afraid to sob out loud.

Wren gently patted his back.

"You don't have to hold it in," she told him. "It's just me here in the car."

Those words seemed to open a tiny floodgate.

Leo's sobs grew a little louder.

He wasn't just crying over what had happened that morning.

He was crying for every time he waited for a ride that never came, for every terrifying comment he didn't fully understand, and for the suffocating tension that hung in the air every time the adults fell silent.

Wren held him tight, her heart breaking over and over again.

It suddenly dawned on her that letting a child see the cracks wasn't necessarily a bad thing.