Jaxon sat on a weathered wooden bench, his gaze fixed on his mother, Sara, who was talking animatedly with Tom, a newcomer to their town. "Why does she have to be so friendly with everyone?" he muttered to himself, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach.

Sara and Tom sat across from Jaxon, their expressions a mix of anticipation and apprehension. "Jaxon, I want you to meet Tom properly. He's been a great friend to me," she said, her voice gentle. "Hi, Jaxon. It's nice to finally meet you," Tom added, offering a warm smile. But Jaxon just nodded, feeling a storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Jaxon watched as his friends played a game of soccer, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the image of Tom sitting in his father's chair at home. "It's not fair," he thought, kicking a pebble across the yard.

Tom found Jaxon sitting in a corner, engrossed in a book. He approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb the boy. "I hear you're quite the reader," he said softly. Jaxon looked up, surprised by the kindness in Tom's voice. "Yeah, I like stories," he replied, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Jaxon and Tom stood side by side, working together to prepare a meal. Tom handed Jaxon a spatula, grinning. "You're a natural in the kitchen," he joked. Jaxon chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him. "Thanks, I learned from the best," he admitted, glancing at his mother, Sara, who watched them with a smile.

Jaxon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He thought of Tom and the day they'd spent together. "Maybe this won't be so bad," he whispered to himself, a sense of peace settling over him as he drifted into a comfortable sleep.