MasukMary's POV:Elowen's kindergarten was a fifteen-minute drive from the house.I held her hand the whole way there. She didn't pull away, didn't squirm, didn't complain that I was holding too tight. She just walked beside me with her purple backpack slung over her shoulder, her hair finally brushed, her dress replaced with jeans and a t-shirt that said I Heart Unicorns in glittery letters.At the classroom door, she stopped and turned to look at me."Mommy?""Yes, baby?""Are you going to talk to Dad today?"I crouched down so we were eye to eye. "Yes. I am.""Are you going to be sad again after?"The question was so simple, and so complicated, and so perfectly her that I almost started crying right there in the hallway."No," I said. "I'm not going to be sad. I promise."She studied my face for a long moment. Then she nodded, as if satisfied, and threw her arms around my neck."I love you, Mommy.""I love you too, baby. Have a good day."She disappeared into the classroom, and I stood
Mary's POV:Elowen's small hand stayed on my cheek for a long time after I asked the question.The kitchen was quiet around us—the refrigerator humming, the clock ticking, the morning light shifting across the floor in slow golden arcs. I could hear my own breathing, shallow and uneven, and I could hear hers, slower, steadier, like she was the one holding me together instead of the other way around."I don't want to never see Dad," she said finally.The words landed softly, but they landed hard. I felt them in my chest, in my throat, in the places where I had been storing all the hope I hadn't let myself feel for years."Of course not, baby," I said. "You'll always see him. Nothing will ever change that."She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at my face. Her eyes, those dark, serious eyes that saw too much and asked too many questions, searched mine for something I couldn't name."But I'd even more not want to see you sad."The words hit me like a physical blow.I had spent th
MARY'S POV:"You're taking his car," I said. It wasn't a question."He said I could." She slipped the keys into the pocket of her robe and glanced back at me over her shoulder. "I have things to do. Places to be. Don't wait up."The door opened. The morning light spilled in, golden and warm, illuminating every crack in the marble floor, every piece of broken glass, every photograph scattered at my feet.And then she was gone.The door closed behind her. The engine of Alistair's car rumbled to life in the driveway. I stood there in the silence, still holding the broken frame, still wearing my flour-dusted apron, still trying to understand how my life had become this.I walked to the kitchen. My phone was on the counter, exactly where I had left it. The screen was dark. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing from Alistair.I picked it up and dialed his number.It rang once. Twice. Three times."Mary?" His voice was distracted, distant, like he was already thinking about something else. "
MARY'S POV:The man in the leather jacket looked at the hidden photograph in my hands, then at my face, then back at the photograph.His expression shifted.The lazy amusement drained away first, replaced by something that looked almost like confusion. Then the confusion hardened into something else—something that might have been concern, or guilt, or the uncomfortable realization that he had miscalculated."I should go," he said.And then he left.Just like that. No apology. No explanation. No offer to help or stay or even close the door behind him. He turned on his heel and walked out of my house, his expensive shoes clicking against the marble floor until the sound faded into nothing.The front door swung shut with a soft click.I stood there in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by broken glass and scattered photographs, and I didn't even have time to care. Because the second he was gone—the second the silence settled back into the house like dust settling on old furniture—I hear
MARY'S POV:I felt something crack a bit inside my chest."Cancel it," I said."Excuse me?""The party. Whatever he's planning. Cancel it."He stared at me for a long moment. Then his mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't take orders from delusional women who pretend to be married to my friends.""I'm not pretending.""Then where is he?" He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the empty foyer, the silent staircase, the closed doors. "If you're his wife, where's your husband? Why isn't he here? Why hasn't he mentioned you? Not once. In all the years i have known him. Not a single word."I opened my mouth and then closed it.Because he was right. Alistair wasn't here. I didn't know where he was—upstairs, probably, or already gone, slipped out the back while I was standing in the kitchen pretending to cook for his mistress. And my phone was still in the kitchen, untouched since last night, and I hadn't seen a single message or missed call from the man who was suppo
MARY'S POV:He looked me up and down very slowly. The way you might look at a piece of furniture you were considering buying but weren't sure would fit in your living room."Alistair called me," he said, and his voice was exactly what I expected—low, rough, with an edge of something that might have been amusement or might have been disdain. Hard to tell. "Woke me up in the middle of the night. Three in the morning. On a Wednesday. Do you know what I was doing at three in the morning?"I did not know abd I also did not care."He didn't even ask," the man continued, pushing past me into the foyer without waiting for an invitation. "Just called and said I need you here like I was some kind of errand boy. And why? Why did he drag me out of bed and put me on a plane at an ungodly hour?"He turned to face me, spreading his arms wide as if presenting evidence in a courtroom."For her. For his precious goddess. For the woman he has been pining over since." He laughed—a short, bitter sound. "F
ELIJAH'S POV:As soon as she stood up fully, I pulled her into my arms and held her tightly.She melted into me immediately, her face pressing into my chest, her fingers gripping my shirt like she would drown if she let go."I have so many questions," she whispered against my chest. "So many things
HANNAH'S POV:I thanked the heavens for Lucas. He was genuinely one of the most supportive people I'd ever known. The best uncle and godfather to my kids. He'd been angry at everyone who'd hurt me, defensive on my behalf even when I'd been too tired to defend myself.We walked into the courtroom to
HANNAH'S POV:TWO WEEKS LATER:The first breath of fresh air outside the hospital felt like an absolute miracle.It was real air and not recycled hospital air pumped through vents. Real, genuine outside air. Warm and humid with that particular quality that told me summer was approaching. Sun-kissed
ELIJAH'S POV: THREE WEEKS LATER:It had been more than a month since Hannah had been discharged from the hospital and returned home to us. And honestly, she'd been doing remarkably well, all things considered. Her physical wounds were healing beautifully. The burns on her legs were fading to light







