Forbidden Office Affair

I sat curled up on the couch, my five-year-old son, Max, snuggled up beside me. I was staring blankly at the TV; my mind had drifted far off. Max's gentle tug on my sweater-covered hand brought me back to reality.

"Mommy, are you okay?" he asked, his big brown eyes full of concern.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, baby, I'm fine. Just a little tired; I had a lot of work to do at the office today."

Max looked uncertain but didn't press the issue. He went back to watching his favorite cartoon, his blonde hair bobbing up and down with excitement.

My gaze drifted around the small apartment, taking in the too-familiar sight. The faded couch from my ex-boyfriend’s house, the hand-me-down coffee table, and the bookshelf filled with worn paperbacks and Max's school books. It wasn't much, but it was home.

My friend, Rachel, who was sitting in the armchair across from us, spoke up after some time. "Lena, maybe you should take some days off from work. You've been working so hard lately, and extra hours for that matter."

I gave her a disapproving stare before sighing, running a hand through my long, dark hair. Although Max had taken his father's salty blonde hair, his hazel-colored eyes were undeniably inherited from me.

"I know, Rach. But you know that your girl has to do what she has to do. Stacking up a bunch of manuscripts that no one is interested in reading can't put food on the table or pay his bills, you know how expensive that is,” I said, whispering at the end.

“Come on Lena, don't be so hard on yourself, things will fall into place. I have a good feeling about this new year.” I looked down at my son who had dozed off on my lap. “We said that last year,” I muttered, struggling to hold back tears that were threatening to fall.

Rachel got up and walked over to me, giving me a gentle hug. "You're an amazing mom and an even better writer. Something will come through soon. I just know it."

I appreciated the encouragement, but it did little to douse the doubts and near-resignation I was feeling. Max was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis about two years ago, and the random hospital visits were taking a toll on us financially.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to her, running my fingers through Max's curly hair.

Just then, Max jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen. I could have sworn this boy was sleeping a few moments ago. "Mommy, Mommy! I almost forgot, I made a picture for you! You're going to love it, I pwomise,” he said, gesturing for me to join him in the kitchen.

My heart swelled with love as I followed Max into the kitchen. On the fridge was a colorful drawing of our little family - there was Max, Mummy, Aunt Rachel, and even our old cat, Mr. Whiskers. The crayon marks were bold and vibrant; he must have been really excited when drawing this.

Rachel chuckled. "Looks like someone's got some artistic talent! It runs in the family apparently," she said, giving me a wink.