Leah could never remember dreading Parents' Evening this much.

In the past it hadn't ever been a concern; Molly was a well-behaved, hard-working child, a clear favourite with her teachers, and it was always a pleasure to hear them sing her praise. For Leah it was an occasion to take pride in her daughter's achievements, and she had always wondered why other parents seemed to fear the evenings so much.

Not anymore.

Now, Leah understood perfectly how the termly parent-teacher meetings could be a source of great apprehension. As a parent, there surely could be nothing worse than spending half an hour having each of your child's faults picked apart by someone who claimed to know them better than their own family. Though the teachers had their pupils' best interests at heart, Leah could well do without having her failings as a parent laid bare by some stuffy know-it-all. She was perfectly aware that she had failed Molly; she just didn't know how to make things right.

To make matters worse, Leah would be facing the tirade alone; although it had been with some reluctance that she'd contacted Neil about the evening, it had still been disappointing to have him let her down at the last moment. It would have been nice to have some support, even from a waste of space like him; they were, after all, both still Molly's parents.

Having reached the waiting area between the Year 4 and Year 5 classrooms, Leah flopped into an empty seat with a sigh. Molly spotted a couple of her classmates leafing through a stack of books in the corner and instantly joined them, leaving Leah all the more aware of her loneliness amongst the pairs of parents surrounding her.

Not that she was actually the only single parent seated in the waiting area. In fact, a subtle glance around her told Leah that the man she had chosen a seat next to was also there alone. She considered striking up a conversation, but everything about his closed-off body language spoke of voluntary solitude. His head hung as if an invisible weight were attached to his neck, dragging it down towards his polished black shoes, and his mane of brown hair was tousled as if he had been repeatedly running his hands through it.

Now Leah thought of it, that permanently ruffled hair looked rather familiar...

Just then, Leah's neighbour raised his head, finally allowing her to see his face, and she almost gasped out loud.

It was Tristan.

Leah had difficulty deciding whether it was she or Tristan who appeared the most taken-aback at having suddenly found themselves face-to-face with each other whilst perched uncomfortably on a pair of tiny primary school plastic chairs. Having only ever been accustomed to seeing Tristan in his white training uniform, forehead slick with sweat after a particularly hard Tae Kwon Do session, it felt incredibly alien to see him sat before Leah now in a crisp grey suit, gold wristwatch gleaming on his wrist.

Both she and Tristan were floundering like fish out of water, the awkwardness well on its way to full-on embarrassment if one of them didn't attempt to salvage the situation soon. Noting that Tristan's expression was akin to that of a startled fawn, Leah decided she had better be the one to take the plunge.

"Solo parents evening for you too?" asked Leah.

"Yeah," replied Tristan gruffly, a haunted look shadowing his bright blue eyes as Leah mentally kicked herself.

Had she completely and utterly lost her mind? What had she been thinking, striking up such a personal topic of conversation with a man she barely knew? Aside from having completely stated the obvious, there was also the fact that she had clearly managed to touch on a raw and painful subject for Tristan.

Great job, Leah.

"I am so sorry; I don't know what I was thinking!" gabbled Leah desperately. "I just..."

With a heavy sigh, Leah decided that complete honesty was really the only option available to her. If Tristan didn't understand, then so be it.

"I'm just feeling pretty on edge – it's my first parents' evening since I divorced Molly's dad," she admitted, refusing to meet Tristan's gaze. "I feel terrible that Molly can't have both her parents here – which I know is completely stupid, because it's not as if I didn't let my ex know about it weeks in advance, so it's his choice not to be here.

"But even though I know all that, I just can't shake the feeling that it's all my fault; that alone, I'm just not good enough for her."

If Leah had been embarrassed previously, she felt sure her face was positively glowing with shame by now. The sudden splurge of words she'd offloaded on Tristan was without a doubt the most open and honest she had been with anyone since the divorce; even more honest than she'd been with herself. Some of the words which had escaped her just now had taken Leah completely by surprise; making her aware of a number of feelings she hadn't even known she was struggling with.

What took Leah even more by surprise was Tristan's response to her confession.

"I completely understand," he replied gently, a tenderness to his tone that made Leah's insides melt a little. She couldn't ever remember the last time anyone had spoken to her with such softness; as if they actually cared about what was upsetting her.

"I know exactly the feeling you're describing," said Tristan now – and somehow, hearing him say that was a breath of fresh air to Leah. Just knowing that someone else had experienced the same thing; that she wasn't completely alone; made Leah feel for the first time in ages that she wasn't going mad.

"I feel like I've failed her," murmured Leah.

"That is not true, Leah, and you need to remember it," said Tristan firmly, capturing her gaze with his blue eyes, which were burning with a fire Leah had never seen there before. "Anyone can see that you're an amazing mother. Molly is a great kid; she's a credit to you."

"Not anymore," whispered Leah.

Much as Leah wanted to believe what Tristan said, she knew deep down that it wasn't true. Molly had been a great kid, yes – before the divorce. Now she was almost unrecognisable as the sunny-natured child she'd once been.

"She's changed so much, since – since her father left," stammered Leah. 

After pouring her heart out to Tristan moments ago, this should have been easy to say – but admitting how drastically her own actions had affected Molly's character was by far the most difficult thing for Leah to own up to.

"She blamed me for making him leave – but he'd had an affair, and I really couldn't carry on living with someone I didn't trust anymore," explained Leah, the words pouring out now that she'd got started.

"Of course, she doesn't fully understand what's gone on – I wouldn't want her to – so, as far as she's concerned, I'm the bad guy for kicking Dad out. She used to be such a happy girl, but now she's so full of bitterness and resentment – and the worst thing is, it's all because of me. She's started misbehaving at school – mouthing at other children, refusing to do her work – and now I'm going to have to sit through a whole half hour of her teacher berating me for her behaviour, when all I've ever done is try my best to be a good mother!"

Leah's chest rose and fell heavily after this outburst, a painful cocktail of emotions coursing through her body. Anxiously she glanced around in case she had attracted anyone's attention – but thankfully the other parents all seemed completely oblivious to her current state of emotional turmoil.

All except one.

"It sucks to see your kids change, especially when you're completely helpless to do anything about it," admitted Tristan. "It hurts like hell, and it makes you feel like the worst parent in the whole world – but seriously, Leah – it's not your fault, okay? As hard as it is for us to accept, we can't protect our kids from every possible difficulty in life. Stuff happens, you know, and they will change because of it – but sometimes it's just out of our control. I mean, did you really think Cameron was so boisterous, or Rosie so timid before their mother died?"

Tristan's words hit Leah like a ton of bricks.

She hadn't known. Hadn't guessed. She couldn't ever have guessed; couldn't ever have imagined that those poor children had met with such tragedy so very prematurely in their lives.

Leah had assumed that Tristan, too, was divorced; this reality had been too unthinkable to even cross her mind. All of a sudden she found herself completely humbled; and completely ashamed. There she was, bemoaning her situation as if no one could possibly be suffering as much as her – when, all along, this lovely family had been silently dealing with the loss of a mother, and wife! Never had Leah felt so humiliated; so self-absorbed!

Tristan, meanwhile, had listened willingly to her endless drivel, never once complaining or attempting to make Leah aware of his own, far direr situation in life.

And his kids! Leah thought in horror. Who could tell, from the way Cameron and Rosie soldiered on, that they had lost the most important woman in their lives?

They must be a family of perfect saints, decided Leah. To get on with things as they had, under such dreadfully difficult circumstances, without displaying the slightest trace of hardship, they truly must be saintly.

But at what personal cost?

Was not Leah, too, guilty of attempting to go on as if her life were not falling apart? Was it not completely destroying her to be carrying around this massive burden without being able to offload? Had it not just given her the greatest, most incredible sense of release to have finally spoken her worries out loud; to finally feel that she wasn't alone?

Gazing intently into Tristan's clear blue eyes, she detected, once again, a faint shadow of sadness. Could Tristan really be as okay as he appeared on the surface? Or was he, too, silently crippled with a cocktail of painful emotions akin to those she struggled with every day?

Was Tristan in need of someone to talk to just as much as she was?

"I had no idea," murmured Leah softly, struggling for the right words. "Tristan, I..."

What she was planning on saying next, she had absolutely no clue – and as it happened, Leah was never to find out. In that moment, with impeccable timing, the door to the Year 5 classroom slid open, and the teacher popped her head outside.

"Mr Chadwick?" she called, glancing around the waiting area. "If you'd like to step inside."

"Good luck," murmured Tristan as he got to his feet. "It will all be fine, you'll see."

Leah's mouth opened and closed hopelessly in a very good goldfish impression - but before she could find the words, Tristan had already disappeared through the classroom door.