Chapter 92 Small Victories
Thursday evening, 6:00 PM at Riverside Academy.
Elena and Alexander sat across from Ms. Greene at a little kid-sized table, knees weirdly high, both looking kind of ridiculous. Alexander’s chair groaned under him.
Ms. Greene smiled apologetically. "Sorry about the chairs. Everything's made for three-year-olds."
Elena forced a grin. "It’s fine." Her knees begged to differ.
Ms. Greene flipped open a folder. "So. Leo."
Elena tensed up. Here it was—the list of issues they’d braced for.
"He's doing wonderfully," Ms. Greene said.
Elena blinked. "He is?"
"Really. He's engaged, curious, kind to other kids. He follows directions—well, most of the time. It’s exactly where he should be.”
"No concerns?" Elena pressed.
Ms. Greene shook her head. "None. He’s a delight."
"You’re sure? My Leo, the dinosaur fanatic?"
She nodded. "He taught half the class about herbivores yesterday. Honestly, his dinosaur knowledge is impressive."
"He talks a lot," Elena offered.
"That’s good. Shows his language is really coming along. He’s confident. Social."
Alexander leaned in, his chair protesting again. "How about the transition? We worried about a new school, new faces—"
Ms. Greene waved it off. “He adapted great. Made new friends fast. James and he—always together."
"James is great," Elena said. “Leo won’t stop talking about him.”
“They’re good for each other. James is quieter, Leo brings him out. James keeps Leo on track during activities.”
Ms. Greene spread out papers. “Here’s some of his work. Art, letter practice.”
There was a wild, green-and-orange T-Rex. A page with crooked Ls and Es. A stick-figure family.
"His fine motor skills are coming along. He knows letters, numbers. He can count to ten."
"Or fifteen, when he’s showing off," Alexander added.
“That’s fantastic. And when he gets frustrated—which happens at this age—he bounces back quickly.”
Elena felt some knot in her chest unwind. “So he’s really okay?”
“He’s more than okay. He’s thriving.”
Elena hesitated. “Even with everything—” She didn’t finish.
Ms. Greene’s face softened. “I know things have been rough for your family. I've seen the news. But Leo is happy. He’s secure. He’s loved. That’s what matters.”
"We’re trying," Elena murmured.
"And you’re succeeding. I’ve taught for twenty years—I know when a child is hurting at home. Leo isn’t. He talks about you two all the time. You’re his world. It’s obvious.”
Elena’s eyes stung. “Thank you.”
“You’re the ones doing the work. I just get to watch him grow.” Ms. Greene closed the folder. "Keep it up."
They peeled themselves out of the tiny chairs and headed for the door.
“One more thing,” Ms. Greene called after them. “Parent appreciation day is next Friday—songs, showing off the classroom, nothing fancy. Leo wanted me to make sure you could both come.”
Alexander didn’t hesitate. “We’ll be there.”
“Both of us,” Elena added.
Outside, Elena caught Alexander’s hand. “He’s okay."
“She said he’s thriving.”
“Thriving. I like that even better.”
They stopped at the car, letting that settle.
"I was scared," Elena admitted. "With the media, Viviana, all our stress—I thought he’d feel it. I thought we might’ve messed him up."
“He’s happy. She said he’s happy.”
"He is. We see it, but…"
"Hearing it from someone else feels different," Alexander said.
Elena nodded. “I feel like celebrating.”
"What, exactly?"
“Our son. Us. Not failing at parenting, at least not entirely. Small victories.”
“How do you want to celebrate?”
“Dinner. Anywhere that isn’t our kitchen—and we don’t have to cook.”
Elena texted Mrs. Chen—she responded in seconds: Of course! Happy to help.
They picked up Leo, dropped him at Mrs. Chen’s. He marched in, announcing, “They’re going on a date. Without me.”
Mrs. Chen grinned. "You okay with that?"
"Yeah. They want alone time. For kissing and boring stuff."
Elena went red. “Leo—”
He shrugged. "It's true."
"We’ll be back by nine," Alexander promised, herding Elena out as Mrs. Chen laughed.
In the car, Elena covered her face. "Kissing and boring stuff. Seriously?"
"He's a good observer."
"Too good."
They ended up at a tiny Italian place nearby. Quiet, a little rundown but cozy with candles and red-checked tablecloths. Not fancy a real place.
Once they were sitting across from each other, Elena looked at him. "When was the last time we did this?"
"Just us? No Leo, no lawyers, no prepping for battle?" He shook his head. "Feels like forever."
The waiter brought a wine list. Elena stared at the menu but didn’t seem to see it.
"I can’t focus on pasta," she admitted. "I keep thinking about Leo. The conference. That he’s okay."
"Good things to think about for once."
She smiled a little. "I was so scared we’d mess him up. That all the chaos was too much."
"We didn’t. He’s fine."
The wine arrived. They ordered without much thought pasta, salad, something with chicken.
They raised their glasses. "To Leo," Alexander said, "for thriving even with us as his parents."
Elena toasted back. "To us, for not screwing up as much as we could have."
They laughed. The wine was good. It wasn’t forced.
Elena broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
"Are you happy here? With us, with everything? You gave up so much—your family, your old life."
He took her hand. "I didn’t give up anything worth having. I traded up. This—us—is the best thing I’ve ever done."
"Even the tiny chairs?"
"Especially the tiny chairs."
Elena actually laughed—really laughed. "Those were so small. I thought one would collapse out from under you."
"Would’ve made a real impression on Ms. Greene."
More laughter real, deep, the first in a long time.
Dinner was easy. They talked about Leo’s dinosaurs, their cramped apartment, what they’d do that weekend.
Regular stuff. Not lawyers, not fights, not survival.
Halfway through, Elena put down her fork. "I needed this. Just this. Feeling normal."
"We can do it more. We have to."
“Can we? The trial is next week—”
“We can. Or we’ll drown.”
"You’re right."
“Say it again.” He grinned.
"Don’t push your luck."
They finished dinner, split tiramisu, downed too-bitter coffee.
At nine they picked up Leo, who was already in pajamas, barely awake.
“We watched a movie," Mrs. Chen reported. "And he beat me at checkers."
"He cheats," Elena said.
"Do not," Leo mumbled as Alexander scooped him up.
"You move pieces when I'm not looking."
"That's strategy."
"No, that's cheating."
Leo was out cold by the time they got home. Alexander carried him to bed, tucked him in with his dinosaurs.
Elena made tea. They sat together in the quiet, just the two of them, Leo sleeping down the hall.
"Thank you for tonight," she said.
"You already did."
"I know. I mean it."
He squeezed her hand. "You're happy."
"Yeah.” She looked almost surprised. “I am."
"You deserve it."
"So do you."
Tea in hand, city life humming outside. Elena listened for a minute. "Next week we start again."
"I know."
"It’ll be brutal."
"Probably."
"But we’ll be okay."
"We will."
“How do you know?”
He smiled. "Because we have tiny chairs and parent-teacher conferences and a kid who calls us boring. That’s real life. The rest is just noise."
"Good noise or bad?"
"Just noise. It fades out. This is what matters."
Elena leaned into him. Closed her eyes.
For weeks, she’d been bracing for the next disaster.
Tonight, just for a while, she let herself stop.
She let herself feel happy.
Tomorrow she’d fight again.
But tonight, she was just Elena. Mother. Partner. Herself.
Living a life that actually belonged to her.
And that, after everything, was worth it.
Tea. Couch. The man she loved. Their son sleeping safe down the hall.
This life.
Hard-won. Precious. Real.
Finally—hers.