53

THEA

I pick Finn up from school, still in my work clothes. And the moment he sees me, he runs into my arms, backpack bouncing against my side as we walk to the car.

He talks the whole way, about Leo, about the stray cat they almost adopted at recess. I listen. I hum.

I don't tell him how my heart already aches just knowing that he'll be going to spend the weekend at Leo's place.

And on our way from his school, we stopped at the grocery store. By the time we leave, hands filled with carriage bags, the sky is already painted in a myriad of colours ranging from pink, blue, and violet.

It's already evening.

“I’m going to take that batman toy to school on Monday.” He chimes, stuffing an Oreo into his mouth.

I hum, arranging the bags into the car’s boot.

As we drive back home, he continues chattering, talking about how Leo has a trampoline. I make a mental note to buy him better sneakers and an indoor trampoline.

By the time we pull into the driveway, it's 17:09.

And I see him.

Sebastian.

Sitting on the third step that leads to our front porch, head bent like he's tired, like he belongs here.

My hands freeze on the steering wheel.

Finn doesn't notice him yet. He's busy slurping his milkshake, making loud weird funny noises.

What the hell is he doing here?

I puff out a breath as I pull the car to a halt. Then, I help Finn with his seatbelt and push the door open before slamming the door shut.

That's when he finally lifts his head.

Our eyes lock.

And the air inside me stills.

He shouldn't be here.

Not tonight.

Not ever again.

Not when I'm just starting to be okay.

“Daddyyyyyyyy.” Finn exclaims on noticing him. He clutches his milkshake and Oreo to his chest as he rushes into his arms.

I draw a breath as I move to the boot and grab the grocery bags.

It takes everything in me not to let the plastic crinkle under the weight of my fingers. I don't want him to see me rattled. I don't want him to think he matters.

But my spine straightens anyway. A reflex. Like my body still remembers what it meant to hold space beside him. And how much it cost to stop.

“Hey, champ.” His voice is low, hoarse like he hasn't used it all day. But it's soft when he hugs Finn. Softer than it used to be. As if he knows how fragile this moment is.

I hate that it still makes my chest tighten.

Finn giggles into his father's neck, sticky fingers pressing against Sebastian’s shirt, milkshake dangerously close to spilling.

“You came!” he grins.

“Of course I did,” Sebastian says. “Had to see my favorite superhero before the weekend.”

I close the boot with a sharp thunk.

He glances at me then.

I don’t return the look. Not fully. Just enough for him to know I see him. That I’m not afraid to.

“I told Leo’s mom to come after dinner,” I say coolly, like we’re not standing on a battlefield paved with our past or that I don't want to outrightly yell at him to leave but at the same time, I don't want Finn to think of me somehow.

“I just wanted to talk.” His voice is too careful, too measured.

But I’m not ready.

Not for this.

Not in front of Finn.

Not after all the pieces I’ve stitched together with shaking hands.

“Now’s not a good time. Go back to your house, Sebastian.” I say, my voice clipped enough for only him to hear.

Finn spins between us.

“Can daddy stay for dinner?” he asks, hopeful, eyes too bright, too innocent.

And my heart breaks in a way that doesn't make noise as I inhale a shuddering breath.

I don't want him to stay. I don't.

I want him to leave.

My eyes dart between Sebastian to Finn who's still looking at me hopefully, and Sebastian who has an unrecognisable look on his face.

I exhale deeply before raking my fingers through Finn's hair, or attempting too.

“Sure bug.”

His grin widen as he hugs my thigh, almost knocking me off. A small smile creeps to my lips as I unlock the door, and they follow behind, Finn bouncing with joy, still talking about cartoons and trampolines. I set the groceries on the kitchen counter and take a moment to collect myself—then I turn to look at them again.

And that’s when I really see it.

The way Sebastian’s arms circled Finn. Too loose. Too awkward. Like someone mimicking a memory instead of living it. That wasn't how he used to hold our son. Sebastian was many things, but never distant with Finn.

He used to hoist him up and bury his face in his neck, whispering something silly that made Finn snort with laughter. But now?

His hands rested like they weren’t sure where they belonged.

He barely looked him in the eye.

Even his scent seemed off. Not cologne or sweat—something less familiar, something sharper, artificial.

I narrow my gaze.

“Want a glass of water?” I ask just for asking sake, watching him move into the living room.

“Sure,” he says, eyes lingering on me a bit too long.

I pour it carefully before passing it across to him.

Then, I motion for Finn to come with me so we can change into something else.

I help him into comfortable homely clothes before changing. Then, I pack some change of clothes into a bag, getting ready for when Leo's mom, Shirley, will come pick him.

The past two hours after dinner have been a slow, choking crawl through discomfort. I sit on the edge of the couch, pretending to scroll through my phone, pretending to watch TV, pretending not to notice the way Sebastian keeps smiling at Finn like he’s trying to remember how.

The uneasiness wraps around me like static. It’s in the air. In my skin. In the way the corners of his mouth twitch too late when Finn laughs. In the way he calls him “champ,” like it’s a nickname he picked off a list instead of one he used to murmur with warmth.

But I say nothing. I do nothing.

Maybe he'd forgotten how to act around him with the time difference since when I gained back custody.

But Finn doesn’t even know why dad and mom are ‘fighting’.

He can’t know.

Not yet.

He still thinks his parents are just… figuring things out.

He still believes we’re just “taking space” like I told him.

He still asks why daddy doesn’t tuck him in anymore.

So I sit there. Silent. Tense. Pretending.

I can't tell him that dad and mom no longer share love anymore after dad cheated on mom just so he wouldn't hate dad. I can't even send the damn man away without an explanation as it'll be like I'm ruining his chance at ‘family bonding’.

When Shirley’s car finally pulls into the driveway, I nearly jump to my feet. I glance out the window. Yes. It’s her. Thank God.

“Shirley’s here!” I call, forcing brightness into my voice like it’s a normal Friday night.

I've never been this happy to be away from Finn but right now, being away from him means Finn will be gone.

Finn bolts to the door with his bag already slung over his shoulder, practically buzzing as he grins at Leo who's peeking out from the window of the passenger's side.

“Bye, daddy!” he says, hugging Sebastian.

Sebastian crouches and hugs him back, and again—again—it’s wrong. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just off. Like someone trying to guess how much love to show.

He hops towards me and I kiss his forehead and whisper, “Be good. Listen to Shirley. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

He nods, all sunshine and excitement. “Love you, mummy!”

“Love you more.”

I wave at Leo. Smile at Shirley. Say thank you. And then the car rolls away, tires crunching against the driveway gravel.

And just like that, it’s only us again.

Me.

And him.

Alone on the porch.

The silence falls between us like a dropped knife. Sharp. Sudden.

I turn to him, uneasiness crawling into my bones as I notice his eyes are on me.

I want to ask him why he’s acting like a weirdo in front of our child.

Why he shows up at Finn’s school without even sending me a message or asking for permission.

Why he was sitting on my porch like he still belongs here. Like he still belongs to us.

But I don’t.

Instead, I bite my tongue and force a smile so stiff it hurts my cheeks. I walk to the front door with deliberate steps, pretending not to feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” I say, hand on the knob, already turning it, already one foot inside, already ready to breathe.

But the air doesn’t come.

Because in one blink, he’s behind me.

And then—he’s in.

He shoves me in, also entering. He slams the door shut so hard the frame rattles. The sound echoes down my spine like a scream.

“What the hell—” I gasp, staggering to my feet, heart thudding in my ears. “Have you gone in—”

But I don’t finish.

I can’t finish.

Because I see it.

His eyes.

His eyes.

Where there should be white—there’s nothing.

Just black.

Oily, endless black that swallows the brown I used to love. That used to smile when Finn was born. That used to crinkle when he laughed.

Now they look like voids.

Like pits.

Like something that never belonged to a man.

“Sebastian?” I whisper, heart slamming against my ribs, sweat trickling down my temple.

It’s not him.

Not anymore.

His face twitches, jaw clenching as he licks his lips—and that’s when I see it.

His tongue—too long.

Too wet.

Slithering like something uncoiling inside his mouth, thick and slick and wrong. So wrong.

Saliva drips onto the floor.

He doesn’t blink.

He just stares at me.

And then he starts walking toward me.

Like he has all the time in the world.

Like I’m not his ex-wife.

Like I’m dinner.

I stagger back, blood rushing to my head, fear coursing through my veins.

“Sebastian?” I call again, voice shaky. And with every step he takes, I take two back.

“You smell like divinity.” He slurs, saliva dripping from his mouth. “I'll have you.”

“Seb–”

That's the only warning I get before he slams me against the door, his eyes starting to fluctuate between the familiar brown eyes and the black eyes.

“Thea, I—run. I can't—I didn't mean—”

His eyes turn black again, saliva dripping on my skin. I gulp, nerves rattling, eyes bleary.

I think… I'm going to faint.