Chapter: "Shadows of a Forgotten Laughter"

Mikey awoke with a start, his breaths coming out in sharp, ragged gasps. The remnants of his dream clung to him like cobwebs, images of a past that refused to be forgotten. Every night, the same haunting visions played out behind his closed eyelids—a loop of the day that innocence died.

Tears lingered on the brink, ready to fall, as he pushed the tangled sheets away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, head in his hands, trying to will the memories away. But they were etched too deeply, carved into the very fabric of his being.

He stood up, a shaky exhale escaping his lips, and padded across the room. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow that fell upon a framed photograph on the dresser. It was an image frozen in time, capturing a moment of pure joy that now seemed worlds away.

In the photograph, a six-year-old Mikey was perched on his dad's shoulders, both of them beaming at the camera. It had been taken at the park, the backdrop of lush greenery and the bright blue sky a stark contrast to the darkness that lurked around the edges of Mikey's current reality.

His fingers traced the glass over the photograph, over the carefree smiles that seemed to mock his present pain. That day, his father had spun him around in the air, and he had laughed, so full of life and love, safe in the belief that his parents were invincible, that their love for him was unshakable.

Now, looking at the faces in the picture, Mikey felt a pang of longing for that simplicity, for the time before the arguments and the heartbreak, before he had seen his mother's affection for another man shatter their family into fragments.

He picked up the frame, holding it close to his chest, and closed his eyes. In his mind, he whispered apologies to that little boy in the picture, for the journey he would have to take, for the innocence that would be lost.

A single tear managed to escape, trailing down Mikey's cheek...

...*Flashback Begins*...

Mikey was six, his world awash with the vibrant colors of a child's love for his mother. Her laughter was a melody that filled their home, her hugs a sanctuary from all the fears and uncertainties that never touched a boy so deeply loved.

But the colors started to fade, the laughter growing distant. His mother's face, once a constant presence, became a rare sight, often weary and absent. The babysitter, Mrs. Jenkins, with her kind yet pitiful smiles, became his new constant.

His parents' love, once a sturdy fortress, began to crumble under hushed arguments that resonated through the thin walls at night. His father's voice, once firm and warm, now spiked with frustration. "Why are you always late?" he'd demand. "Where have you been?"

At nine, Mikey started to harbor a gnawing thought that there was something wrong with him, that he was the reason his mother stayed away. He wasn't a good enough boy. That had to be it. Tears would soak his pillow as he whispered apologies to the darkness, promising to be better, to be perfect.

One overcast afternoon, Mikey trudged home from school, his backpack heavy as his heart. That's when he saw her—his mother, laughing in a way he hadn't heard in years, with a man who wasn't his father. They were heading into a fancy café, one he'd never been to.

Curiosity, confusion, and a desperate need for her attention propelled him forward. He entered the café, his small frame slipping between tables until he stood, frozen, before the most heartbreaking scene.

His mother's lips were on the stranger's, her eyes closed, lost in a moment that shattered Mikey's world. He mustered his courage, his voice barely above a whisper, "Mom, who is he? Why are you kissing him? You should only kiss Dad, not another man."

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