LOGIN~ Mara ~ Cole left twenty minutes ago. The house still felt like he was standing in the kitchen. That was the problem with him. He filled space without trying. The silence after he left always felt bigger than the house itself. I rinsed the same plate twice before realising it was already clean. My brain kept replaying the same words. I’m not going anywhere. Simple sentence. Terrifying promise. I dried my hands slowly and leaned against the counter. Permanence. Cole had offered it like it was nothing. Like stepping into my life and Lily’s life was just another decision. Like he wasn’t a man who lived in a world full of violence, and men who solved problems with fists. I tried to imagine explaining him to a judge. Yes, your honour, the biker club president sleeps over sometimes but he makes excellent pancakes and helps with math homework. Yeah. That would go over great. My phone buzzed on the table. My lawyer. Perfect timing. I answered i
~ Cole ~ The garage was louder than usual. Metal clanged. Engines revved. Someone dropped a wrench and swore like it personally insulted his mother. Normal day. But my head wasn’t in it. Jax noticed first. He leaned against the workbench watching me pretend to check the same bolt for the third time. “You gonna tighten that thing,” he asked, “or marry it?” “I’m inspecting.” “You’ve been inspecting for ten minutes.” “Precision takes time.” “Bullshit takes longer.” I glanced at him. “What?” “You’re distracted.” “I’m thinking.” “About the school thing?” “Partly.” Jax took a sip from his coffee cup. “You handled that pretty well.” “Wasn’t complicated.” “You publicly embarrassed her cheating ex-husband mistress and a suburban queen.” “She started it.” “Still counts as a win.” Across the garage, Elijah rolled his bike forward. “You didn’t come here to celebrate,” he said without looking up. “I came to think,” I said. “You’ve been do
~ Mara ~ The school office always smelled like dry markers and overbrewed coffee. It was the same smell from when I was a kid. Like time hadn’t moved forward inside the building. Only the students had. I sat in the stiff plastic chair across from the principal’s desk while Lily swung her legs beside me. Her sneakers tapped the metal chair legs in a quiet rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Feet,” I murmured. “Sorry.” The tapping stopped. For five seconds. Then started again. Across the desk, the principal cleared her throat. “Thank you both for coming in this morning, Mrs Collins.” “Of course.” I already knew why we were here. Olivia. Kids didn’t invent rumours like that alone. Parents did. “I understand there was a… conversation between Lily and another student yesterday,” the principal continued carefully. Lily leaned forward immediately. “She started it.” “Lily,” I said gently. The principal smiled politely. “That may be true.” “It is t
~ Cole POV ~ The word should have bothered me. Uncle. It sat in my head the whole ride back from the bus stop. Most men in my world didn’t get called that. They got called worse. Much worse. But Lily had said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like I’d always been there. Like I belonged. The motorcycle engine revved under me as I pulled into Mara’s driveway again. I’d forgotten my phone on the kitchen counter. Which, according to Jax, meant I was getting old. Or distracted. Probably both. I shut the engine off and stepped back onto the porch. The front door was still open. Inside, Mara stood by the sink staring into her coffee mug like it had personally offended her. “You forget something?” she asked without turning around. “My phone.” “It’s on the counter.” I walked in and grabbed it. She was still watching the coffee. “You’re thinking too loud,” I said. “I do that sometimes.” “About Lily?” Her shoulders tensed sli
~ Lily ~ The frying pan was already sizzling when I padded into the kitchen. That meant Cole was here. Mom didn’t cook pancakes on school mornings. She said mornings were for “survival, not creativity.” But Cole cooked like mornings were a holiday. I climbed onto the stool at the counter and watched him flip a pancake in the pan. He wore one of Mom’s black t-shirts. It didn’t fit him right. His arms stretched the sleeves tight, and the shirt looked like it might give up and explode if he moved too hard. His motorcycle jacket hung over the chair behind him. It smelled like gasoline. And weirdly… like maple syrup. Cole glanced over his shoulder. “You’re staring.” “I’m watching,” I replied. “That sounds suspiciously like staring.” “Observation is a scientific activity.” He raised one eyebrow. “Did your teacher tell you that?” “No.” “Where’d you learn it then?” “YouTube.” He snorted. Mom walked into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of her e
Mara The internet woke up angry that morning. Which, honestly, wasn’t surprising. It always did. But this time it was worse. Way worse. I realised it the second I opened my phone. Notifications. Hundreds of them. Messages. Tags. Comments. The kind of online chaos that makes your stomach drop before you even start reading. I sat at the kitchen table, the blue light of the phone reflecting in my tired eyes, terrified to tap anything. Then I opened the first post. A blurry photo. Taken outside the hospital. Cole walking out of the ER with a bandage on his shoulder. Me beside him. The caption read: “Biker gang leader stabbed in late-night brawl. Mystery woman identified as Mara Collins, the ex-wife of business executive Evan Collins. Sources say the affair may have sparked ongoing gang conflict.” My stomach turned. Another article. Another headline. “Custody Battle Turns Violent?” Then came the comments—thousands of strangers playing jud
Mara Vanessa didn’t respect me. She never did. I was folding Lily’s laundry when the doorbell rang once, sharp and impatient, followed immediately by a knock that sounded like she already owned the place. Lily looked up from the floor where she was lining up her dolls. “Mommy,” she said c
Cole I didn’t leave because I was done. I left because staying would’ve ruined everything. The sky was still dark when I rolled the bike out from behind the building, careful not to let the engine bark too loud. I kept my movements controlled, the way I did before a fight. Quiet. Deliberate
Lily Mommy thinks I don’t see things. She thinks because I’m six, my eyes only work for toys and cartoons and coloring books. She thinks if she doesn’t say something out loud, it doesn’t exist. But I see everything. I saw the way she moved slower this morning, like her bones were heavier
Mara The space beside me was cold when I woke up. Not just empty. Cleared. I lay still for a moment, eyes open, breathing shallow, taking inventory of what was missing before I let myself register what remained. The sheet was folded back on his side. The pillow gone. Even the faint weight i







