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.

I smiled, feeling a sense of pride and gratitude for my little family. "This looks amazing, Max. We should get this framed in the living room so that everyone can see it."

"Or better still, an art gallery," he said in awe. I ruffled his hair, nodding in agreement. "Muuummmm, you're going to ruin my hair," he whined with a cute pout.

I could hear Rachel's voice complimenting his drawing while I slowly drifted away again. If not for anything, for Max. I had to keep going, for Max's sake.

Max climbed onto the chair behind and pointed to the drawing. "See, Mommy? We're happy!" He wrapped his arms around my neck in a bear hug. "Yes, we are, baby."

I turned around abruptly and attacked his face with kisses, making him giggle loudly, the shrill sounds filling the kitchen. Rachel blew a kiss to me before signaling that she was leaving. I mouthed a quick thank you to her in between kisses.

"Mommy, I want cereal," he said when I finally brought him down from the chair. "Cereal? It's late already baby, I can't have it giving you a stomach upset tonight. How about you take that in the morning?"

He nodded, running towards the stairs. "Race you to my room," he yelled to me. "No running on the stairs, Maxwell," I said in a dry tone, making him halt to a stop before dramatically taking one step at a time.

I rolled my eyes at him and took one last look at the depiction of our family. I am going to give my baby boy the world, but for now, our small apartment and my meager salary would have to suffice.

Picking up one of the bedtime storybooks, I placed it underneath my arm and used the other hand to clear up the living room. When I was done, I picked up my laptop from the center table and climbed up the stairs.

I heard Max's light snores before I even got to the door of his room. Pushing the door slightly, I saw that he had changed into his pajamas and was snuggled up with his stuffed donkey.

Having a son like Max really made this parenting thing a lot easier. He was so smart and responsible for his age. My colleagues at work called him my small husband.

I tiptoed to his side and planted a kiss on his forehead before going to my room and opening my laptop.

I stared at the screen for over twenty minutes, debating whether I should proceed with it or not. "See, Mommy? We're happy!" Max's voice filled my head.

Fuck it.

I clicked on enter and watched the sent notification pop up and disappear.