When I picked up Noah from school, he told me that Grandpa Raymond had called him, saying how much he missed him and asking if he could stay at their house for a week. He wanted me to take him over.
I hesitated for a moment before taking Noah home to pack a small suitcase. He was thrilled, chatting excitedly about how Grandpa had promised they'd fly his remote-controlled helicopter together.
After dropping Noah off, my mom, Helen, walked me to the car. "Amaia, cheer up. Go out and have some fun."
As I got into the car, I glanced back to see her standing there, watching me, not going back inside for quite a while.
I flipped down the car's visor mirror and noticed how pale and worn out I looked. I freshened up my makeup, applying a bold shade of lipstick.
After sorting things out, I went on a week-long trip. I rushed through charming European towns, meeting a variety of people and hearing countless stories along the way.
When I returned, I felt much more reinvigorated.
I glanced at the calendar. The countdown to the divorce was at 21 days.
