(Rebecca's POV)
Wednesday. Three-seventeen.
Sean's car pulls up. The same silver sedan. The same careful parking six feet from the curb — far enough to give me space, close enough that Jack doesn't have to run.
The passenger door opens. Jack climbs out. Backpack on. Hair mussed.
Sean follows. Hands Jack's bag to me.
"Homework's in the front pocket," he says. "Math sheet is flagged. He has a quiz Thursday."
Clear. Professional. No subtext.
I take the bag.
The fabric is warm from the car.
"Thank you," I say.
Sean nods. Gets in his car. Drives away.
The whole exchange takes ninety seconds.
---
I notice the snacks the second week.
Graham crackers. Apple slices in a container — the good kind, the ones that don't brown because someone took the time to find the ones with the citric
