My Son Chose The Mistress

Summary

The smell of roasted pistachios filled the car—sweet, smoky, and warm. They were Nelson’s favorite, and our son’s, too. I sat in the passenger seat, my fingers stained dark as I peeled them one by one, a small, domestic ritual of love.

Then, a voice drifted from the backseat. It was Parker, my twelve-year-old son. His voice was still high, still innocent, but the words he spoke were sharp enough to draw blood.

"Mom, Dad and Auntie Chloe have been together for two years now. We gave you so many hints. How did you never notice?"