Masuk~ Mara ~ It doesn’t start like I thought it would. Annoying enough to notice. Not painful enough to take seriously. I’m standing in the kitchen again, because apparently that’s where my life happens now, rinsing a cup I already washed twice, when it hits. A tightening. Deep. Sharp enough to make me pause sensation. I grip the edge of the sink, waiting. It passes. Just like that. I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders like I can shake it off. “Okay,” I mutter to myself. “That’s new.” My hand moves to my stomach automatically. He’s quiet. Too quiet. Or maybe he's decided to take a break from kicking his mother. I dry my hands slowly, trying to act normal even though no one is watching me. That’s the weird part. I’m alone. And I’m still pretending. Another wave of contraction hits. Stronger this time. My breath siezes slightly as I lean back against the counter. “…okay,” I whisper again, but it doesn’t sound as convincing this time. I gl
~ Mara ~ I wake up before the alarm. Not because I want to. Because my body doesn’t let me sleep anymore. Everything feels heavy. Not just the baby. Everything….even my feet, looks swollen. The room is still unfamiliar,new, bigger and cleaner it also has enough space for my thoughts to echo. I lie there for a second, staring at the ceiling, one hand resting on my stomach without thinking. He’s moving. Not a lot. Just enough to remind me he’s alive. I swallow, blinking slowly as yesterday presses back in. The argument. The words. The way I broke. The way Cole didn’t. I turn my head slightly. He’s awake. Not moving. Just lying there beside me, staring at the ceiling like he’s been there a while. “You didn’t sleep,” I say quietly, my voice still rough. “I did,” he replies. I look at him. He doesn’t look at me. “Liar,” I murmur. That gets the smallest reaction. His jaw shifts slightly. “Didn’t feel like it,” he admits. Silence s
~ Mara ~ The baby’s room isn’t finished. It should be simple. A crib. A dresser. Soft colours that don’t mean anything yet. But I’ve been standing in the doorway for ten minutes, staring at the half-built crib like it personally offended me. “I said I’ll fix it,” Cole mutters from behind me, his voice low as he tightens something with a screwdriver. “You’ve been saying that for twenty minutes,” I reply, arms folded tightly over my chest. “It takes time,” he says. “It’s a crib, not a motorcycle engine,” I snap. The second it leaves my mouth, I regret it. But I don’t take it back. He pauses. Just for a second. Then continues like I didn’t just bite. “That’s why it’ll be done right,” he says calmly, not looking at me. I hate that. The calm and control he hides behind. It makes me feel louder than I actually am. “I didn’t say you’d do it wrong,” I push, stepping into the room now, my voice tighter. “I said you’re taking too long.” “And I said it
~ Mara ~ During the weekend we called the moving company packed our essentials ourselves and left them to pack the rest of our stuff and bring it to the new house. When we got there I realised the new house doesn’t echo the way I thought it would. I expected it to feel empty big and quiet, like we didn’t belong in it yet. But it doesn’t. Old Boxes are stacked against the walls, some half-open, some already forgotten. The air smells different here, cleaner like nothing bad has ever happened inside these walls. I’m standing in the middle of the living room, one hand pressed to my lower back, the other resting on my stomach, watching movers go in and out like this is normal. Like this is just another day. It’s not. Lily runs past me, her footsteps light, her voice louder than it’s been in weeks. “Mom, my room has two windows!” she calls out, already halfway down the hall again. I turn slightly, watching her disappear, the tension in my chest loosening just a littl
~ Cole ~ The garage doesn’t smell like oil anymore. There are still traces of it, buried in the concrete, soaked into the walls from years of work that wasn’t exactly legal. But now there’s something else layered over it, fresh paint and a clean workstations. It feels… different. I stand just inside the entrance, keys in my hand, looking at what used to be one of our rougher spots. Now it’s structured, organized and legit. Jax walks in behind me, boots heavy against the floor. “Still weird seeing it like this,” he mutters, glancing around. “Yeah,” I answer quietly. He kicks lightly at a toolbox, testing it like he expects it to fall apart. It doesn’t. “Paper says we’re legit now,” he says. “Licenses, inspections, all that boring shit.” “It’s not boring,” I reply, stepping further in. “It’s protection.” Jax snorts. “From who? The cops or ourselves?” “Both.” That shuts him up for a second. Good. Because this isn’t a joke to me. Not anymore. I walk
~ Mara ~ I didn’t think something as small as a baby could make everything feel this… heavy. Not just physically. Everything. My body, my thoughts, the air around me. Even walking through the store feels different now, like I’m carrying more than just myself. I pause in front of a rack of tiny clothes, as my fingers brush over the soft fabric that doesn’t feel real yet. I think to myself that these tiny clothes will soon belong in a life I haven’t fully caught up to. Cole stands a few feet behind me, watching. Not hovering. Just…being supportive. Present in a way he wasn’t before. “You’re staring again,” he says quietly, stepping closer. I don’t look at him. “They’re small,” I murmur, picking up a onesie between my fingers. “They’re supposed to be,” he replies, his voice calm. “I know,” I say, exhaling softly. “It just… makes it hard to choose .” He doesn’t answer immediately. I feel him move closer instead, his hand settling lightly on my back. “
Cole By the time I shut my door, it was already done. That was the truth I didn’t want to look at. The clubhouse noise faded behind me, but the damage didn’t stay there. It followed. Sat heavy in my chest. Quiet. Certain. I hadn’t needed Jax to say anything. I hadn’t needed Rhea’s look when
Mara The knock came hard enough to rattle the door. Heavy and Urgent. I was halfway through shoving Lily’s lunch into her bag when it happened, my pulse already spiking before my brain caught up. My body knew the sound. Knew the weight behind it. “Shit,” I muttered, wiping my hands on my
Mara She didn’t introduce herself. She didn’t have to. That witch, Vanessa stood in front of me like she belonged there, like the sidewalk outside Lily’s school was her territory and I was the one trespassing. Polished hair. Perfect posture. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I knew that
Mara The ride was quiet. Not awkward. Not heavy with forced conversation. Just quiet in the way that made my thoughts louder than the engine beneath us. Cole didn’t touch me more than necessary. His hand stayed steady at my waist, firm enough to keep me balanced, distant enough to r







