My ex-wife came to see our son. She ended up staying the night. I let her sleep on the couch. After midnight, I heard something I wasn’t supposed to hear.

There it was again.

Quieter this time.

But real.

“I didn’t expect it to hit me like this,” she said. “I thought I had adjusted.”

A pause.

“I thought I was okay.”

I pushed off the wall and walked a little closer.

Not too close.

Just enough.

“You are okay,” I said.

She shook her head.

“No. I’m functioning.”

She looked up at me.

“That’s not the same thing.”

That landed harder than I expected.

Because I understood it.

Too well.

We stood there for a moment, in the half-dark, two people who used to share everything and now shared almost nothing.

Except this.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” I said finally.

The words came out before I could overthink them.

She frowned slightly.

“What do you mean?”