บททั้งหมดของ Mummy, Please Marry Uncle Biker Daddy: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

~ Mara ~ The house was warm, in a comfortable way that only happened after dinner. Lily’s homework was spread across the living room floor like a paper explosion. Cole sat cross-legged beside her, holding a pencil like it personally offended him. “Explain this again,” he said. “It’s fractions I understand it,” Lily said slowly. “You just did it wrong.” he accused. “I didn’t do it wrong,” she said “You did.” Cole looked at the paper again. “Three quarters plus one quarter equals… five quarters.” Lily stared at him like he had personally insulted mathematics. “Uncle Cole.” “What?” “That’s not how fractions work.” “It’s exactly how fractions work.” “It equals one.” “That’s the boring answer,” she says “Math doesn’t care if it’s boring,” Cole replied Cole leaned back against the couch dramatically. “This is why I work on motorcycles.” I sat in the armchair watching them with my laptop balanced on my knees. The custody paperwork glowed on the

~ Cole ~ Night rides always felt different. The city looked softer in the dark. Streetlights glowing like tired stars. Traffic quieter. People hidden inside their houses pretending the world was safe. My motorcycle cut through the empty streets like a blade. Elijah had sent the warehouse location ten minutes ago. Silas’s territory. Of course. The guy never did anything subtle. My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. Mara. I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I knew exactly what she’d say. Don’t go. Let the police handle it. Please be careful. All reasonable requests. None of them possible. The warehouse district came into view. Rusty buildings. Broken lights. The kind of place where bad things happened quietly. Three motorcycles were already parked outside the old shipping building. Elijah. Jax. Ryan. Good. At least Ryan was still standing. I killed my engine and walked toward them. Ryan leaned against th

~ Mara ~ The house felt wrong. Not empty. Wrong. Like the air itself was trying to tell me something I didn't know. I sat on the couch pretending to watch the same cartoon Lily had already watched twice. She lay on the floor colouring something that looked like a dragon wearing sunglasses. Every few minutes she looked up. “Did Uncle Cole text you yet?” “No.” “Maybe he’s driving.” “Probably.” She nodded like that made sense. Kids believed the world ran on simple explanations. Adults knew better. My phone sat on the coffee table. Silent. I hated that silence. Lily colored another bright green scale on the dragon. “Mommy you're thinking again.” I blinked. “What?” “The stare.” “I’m not staring.” “You are.” I forced a small smile. “I’m just tired.” “You should take a nap.” “Parents don’t nap.” “That sounds unfair.” “It is.” She considered that. Then asked the question I knew was coming. “Are you mad at Uncle Cole?” “No.”

~ Lily ~ Mom thinks I don’t notice things. But I do. Adults act like kids live in some cartoon world where nothing serious happens. That’s not true. We just hear things differently. And sometimes we pretend not to hear them at all. This morning I woke up before everyone else. Which never happens. Usually, Uncle Cole wakes up first because he makes coffee that smells like burnt dirt. But today the house was quiet. Really quiet. I climbed out of bed and walked down the hallway. Mom’s bedroom door was open. She wasn’t inside. The couch in the living room had a blanket lump on it. Uncle Cole. Still asleep. His arm hung off the side like he had fallen asleep mid-thought. I walked closer. His eyebrow had a bandage. The one I put there. It looked slightly crooked now. I climbed onto the couch and sat next to him. He didn’t wake up. I poked his shoulder. Nothing. “Wow,” I whispered. “You’re really out.” His breathing stayed slow. H

~ Mara ~ Before we knew it a week had passed and it was time for court. The courthouse parking lot smelled like hot asphalt it was as if I could taste people's sorrows in the air. I sat in the car for a full minute after turning the engine off. Just breathing. Just staring at the beige building in front of me like it personally offended me. Courthouses have that vibe. Cold. Judgy. Like the walls are whispering let’s see who ruins your life today. Cole knocked on the passenger window. I jumped. He opened the door and leaned down. “You planning to move in here or…?” “I was thinking about it,” I muttered. “Nice view of despair.” “Exactly.” He crouched slightly so we were eye level. “You ready?” “No.” “Good.” “That’s not comforting.” “Nobody’s ready for court.” “Fantastic.” He offered his hand. I stared at it. Then took it. Because apparently that’s who I am now. The woman who holds a biker president’s hand before custody hearings.