A New Life, Baked Fresh

The smell of disinfectant in the kindergarten mingled with the sweet scent of snacks, drifting into my nose. I carried the insulated box full of cranberry cookies, stepping lightly. "Ms. Lynn!" the caretaker smiled as she came over, "Alex has been talking about you all morning." My heart clenched suddenly. Alex is the son Paul Green and I share. After the divorce, I only dared to see him in secret. Just as I put the cookies on the table, a small figure rushed over and clung to my leg. "Mom!" Alex looked up at me with his rosy face, his eyes shining like stars. I crouched down and quickly patted his head, my throat tightening. "Alex, be good, go back to your seat and eat your snack." He nodded and secretly slipped a neatly folded note into my hand before running off. I unfolded the note; in shaky pencil handwriting, it read: Mom, I miss you. My nose tingled, and tears almost fell. "Why are you here?" A cold male voice sounded behind me, like a bucket of ice-cold water poured over my head. I turned around. Paul Green stood not far away, dressed in a suit and tie, still the most striking figure in the crowd. It's been a year since we last met. He doesn't seem to have changed much, except his eyes are colder. "I volunteered to bring snacks for the kindergarten afternoon tea." I gripped the note in my hand, my voice trembling slightly. He frowned, his eyes scanning my worn coat and messy hair, his tone impatient: "Don't let Alex see you again." "Why not?" I asked instinctively. "His classmates will make fun of him for having a mom who makes snacks." Paul Green's words pierced my heart like needles. I looked at his neat cuffs and polished leather shoes, then glanced down at my flour-dusted hands, suddenly feeling unbearably ashamed. "I understand." I lowered my head, not daring to meet his eyes. Paul Green didn't say another word. He turned and walked over to Alex's seat, bending down to gently stroke his son's head, his touch painfully tender. I bit my lip and hurried out of the kindergarten. The sunlight touched me, but it couldn't warm my cold fingertips.