FAZER LOGINMom claps. “See? Good sense.”Dad groans, drops into a chair, and rubs his forehead. “Fine. Sparklers. But I get to choose the color.”“Deal,” I say, leaning over to kiss his temple. He pretends not to smile but I see it anyway.I never thought I would have this again—a father who tries, really trie
Maya’s POVFrance changed me. I did not expect it to. I thought all I wanted was revenge, a reckoning, a balancing of the scales that would make everything feel right again. But standing at the kitchen window of our townhouse with the late-morning sun warming the old stone, watching Oscar toddle aft
After a few minutes, Emma sits beside me, nudging my shoulder. “How are you really,” she asks, her voice softening.I smile. “Good. Really good. For the first time, everything feels... quiet.”“You deserve quiet.”I nod, my eyes warming. “He is different now. Softer. Present. You should see him read
Emily’s POVSix Months LaterI wake before the alarm, before the morning light even filters through the curtains, to a soft flutter beneath my ribs. A tiny kick, gentle but unmistakably there. I smile into the pillow, pressing my palm over the swell of my stomach. The baby is awake, stretching, gree
Damian’s POVI do not think I exhaled until the plane door shut behind us.No reporters.No blinking notifications.No family emergencies.No corporate disasters waiting like open jaws behind every email.Just Emily beside me, fingers loosely threaded with mine, her head resting on my shoulder as if
Emily’s POVThe morning light over the farm looks unreal, soft as milk, drifting across the grass in wide strokes that make everything glow. It is the kind of light you only see on days you remember forever. A gentle breeze carries the smell of lilac and fresh earth, the decorations swaying slightly
Damian’s POVThe moment the car turns down the gravel road toward the farm, I know something is wrong. The air already feels too loud. Before I even reach the main gate, I see flashes strobing through the trees. Photographers. Reporters. Tripods. Long lenses trained like rifles on the wooden fence a
Emily’s POVI wake before dawn.The cabin is dark and quiet, the kind of quiet that feels stitched into the walls. Damian’s arms are around me, his breath warm against the back of my neck. For a moment I just lie there, letting myself feel it—the weight of him, the familiar shape of his chest agains
Madelin’s POVThe orchard is my favorite place on the farm. Rows of old apple trees twist toward the sky, their branches heavy with green leaves that rustle softly in the breeze. The late afternoon light filters through them in soft, gold patches, warming my skin and reminding me of quieter times, g
Damian’s POVI thought I was prepared for the first counseling session. I read the packet the therapist sent us, skimmed the suggested talking points, even rehearsed a handful of non-threatening sentences about “communication” and “emotional transparency” on the drive over. But the second we walk in







