LOGINMillicent's POVThe doctor's words don't make sense at first."Elevated markers... probably nothing... recommend a procedure... just to be safe..."I'm sitting in the pediatrician's office, the same office where Josh has had checkups since he was born, and the words are sliding past me like water off glass. Josh is on my lap, playing with a plastic dinosaur the nurse gave him, completely unaware that his mother's world is tilting sideways.The walls of the office are covered in cheerful posters about hand-washing and healthy eating. There's a mobile hanging from the ceiling, there’re colorful fish swimming in circles and everything just looks normal. Nothing looks like the end of the world, but the doctor's mouth is still moving, and the words are still wrong."Mrs. Hale? Do you have any questions?"Do I have.. I do actually. I have a thousand, a million maybe. None that I can articulate."What kind of procedure?" I manage."Minor surgery to remove a small growth. Almost certainly b
Millicent's POVThe envelope arrives early on a Thursday morning, it’s mixed in with other bills and client correspondence.I almost miss it, the plain white, handwritten address, with no return information. But something about the handwriting stops me. Something familiar that I can't quite place.I open it in my studio, in between appointments, expecting nothing. The letter inside is three pages long and carefully written."Dear Millicent,I know you probably don't want to hear from me. I wouldn't want to hear from me either. But I've been watching your life unfold from a distance, through the articles, the interviews, and the photos of you looking happier than I ever saw you when we were friends, and I realized I owe you something I should have given you years ago.An explanation and an apology.Not because I deserve your forgiveness. I know I don't, but because you deserve to know the truth about what happened, and why."I sit down heavily, the paper trembling in my hands.It’s Ria
Millicent's POVSix months after the ceremony, I wake up happy. I no longer have the fragile and conditional happiness I used to know, the kind that waited for the other shoe to drop, that braced for impact even in good moments. This is something smooth. A happiness built on foundation rather than hope. I remember what happiness used to feel like, before. Brief flashes between Brian's moods, moments I'd clutch at desperately before they slipped away. I learned not to trust happiness, not to relax into it, not to believe it would last but this is different. This happiness has deep roots.Damon is already awake, reading something on his tablet, his free hand resting on my hip. Mike is still asleep on my other side, his breath warm against my shoulder. Morning light filters through the curtains, painting everything in shades of gold.This is my life now and it's working.The studio has transformed into something I barely recognize. Maya has become indispensable, handling scheduling, m
Millicent's POVThe guests leave slowly, full of cake and champagne and the warm glow of witnessing something real.June hugs me for a long time before she goes, whispering "I'm so proud of you" against my hair. Her arms are thin but strong, holding on like she's afraid to let go. Three months sober, and she's learning to be present, really present, for the first time in decades."I love you, Mom," I say, and her grip tightens."I love you too, baby. I love you too."Kent shakes Damon's hand and then, unexpectedly, pulls him into an awkward embrace. The billionaire who's spent his life avoiding physical contact with most people tolerates it with good grace, even patting Kent's back once before stepping away."Take care of her," Kent says gruffly."We will," Damon replies. "All of us."Elena kisses each of us on the cheek and promises that breakfast will be ready whenever we wake. "Sleep in," she says with a knowing look. "I'll keep Josh entertained."Josh, exhausted from his ring bear
Millicent's POVThe garden has never looked more beautiful. Mike has been working for weeks, coaxing every flower into bloom, arranging the paths so they lead naturally to the small clearing where we'll stand. White chairs form a semicircle facing a simple arch covered in roses, his roses, tended with love, now witnessing the love they've helped create.The morning light filters through the trees, dappling everything in gold and green. Somewhere in the hedges, birds are singing, oblivious to the significance of the day. The air smells like flowers and fresh-cut grass and possibility.I stand in the mansion's master bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, and I barely recognize the woman looking back.Not because I look different. I'm wearing a simple cream dress, nothing elaborate, nothing that would photograph well for society pages. This ceremony isn't for the world, It's for us. The dress is soft against my skin, comfortable rather than constraining, nothing like the elaborate
Mike's POVThe letter arrives on a Thursday. It’s a plain white envelope with no return address, but I recognize the handwriting immediately, it’s my mother's careful cursive handwriting, the same script that used to label my lunch boxes and sign my report cards and write birthday cards that said "We're so proud of you."I stand in the foyer holding the envelope, unable to open it and unable to set it down. The paper feels heavier than it should, because it’s weighted with years of silence and the sudden terror of what might be inside."Mike?" Millicent appears in the doorway, concern flickering across her face. "What's wrong?""It's from my parents."She goes still. I haven't heard from them in four years not since I came out, not since they told me I was no longer their son, not since my father's voice, cold and final, informed me that I was dead to them. They didn't attend my college graduation, they didn't respond to the Christmas cards I sent the first two years, before I finall







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