جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 310

Mia's POVI stood in my kitchen, phone pressed to my ear, listening to Thomas's apologetic voice explaining that his Chicago meetings had been extended another day."I'm sorry, Mia," his voice crackled through the speaker, the connection spotty. " I won't be back until tomorrow evening.""It's fine," I said. "These things happen.""Are you sure?"I glanced toward the living room where Alexander and Ethan were building an elaborate fort out of couch cushions, their voices a constant stream of excited chatter about structural engineering and optimal pillow placement."Just a long day," I said. "when you get back, we can talk."After we hung up, I ordered Thai food from our favorite place down the street, requesting extra spice on my pad thai. I needed something that would burn away the lingering taste of anger.For the boys, I made their usual favorites—grilled cheese sandwiches cut into perfect triangles and apple slices arranged just the way they liked them."Mama, what's that smell?"

Mia's POV"Are we in trouble?" Ethan asked."No, you're not in trouble," I assured them quickly. "But I need to understand where you found them. Can you show me when we get home?"Alexander nodded enthusiastically. "We found them in your nightstand drawer! There were two of them, but we only brought one to school because Ethan said we should save the other one for later."My face burned again."We thought they were special balloons because they were in a fancy package," Ethan added."And they were hidden away like treasure!" Alexander chimed in."This isn't about being in trouble," I said. "But next time you find something new, can you ask me about it first? Sometimes grown-ups have things that aren't safe for children to play with."Both boys looked at each other."Even if it looks like a toy?" Alexander asked."Even if it looks like a toy," I confirmed."Like Mama's wine?" Ethan asked seriously. "It looks like grape juice, but it's only for grown-ups?""Exactly like Mama's wine," I

Mia's POVI stared at the newspaper in Alexander's small hands, the word "obituary" printed in stark black letters across the top of the page. "Where did you see this word, dear?" I asked, setting down my mug."Right here," Alexander pointed to the headline with his index finger, already sticky from syrup. A small fingerprint smudged the black ink. "What does it mean?"I leaned closer to examine the page he was holding. The local obituary section stretched across two pages, filled with small black and white photographs of recently deceased individuals alongside carefully crafted summaries attempting to capture entire lifetimes in a few paragraphs. "This is the section of the newspaper that tells people when someone has passed away," I said slowly, selecting each word like stepping stones across a rushing stream. "When people die, their family members write stories about their lives so that others can remember them and know what kind of person they were."Ethan looked up from his met

Mia's POV"Don't touch me!" The words tore from my throat.I stared at him, this familiar stranger. "So you're done pretending then? No more Jackson Maxwell? "Hairline fractures running through his composure."Mia—""Oh, don't." I held up my hand. "Don't you dare! Tell me, Kyle, how exhausting was it? Maintaining that ridiculous performance day after day?"I took a step closer, ignoring the fire shooting up my ankle, and studied his face . "Let me guess. You had to get up extra early every morning to apply whatever they use to make your skin look different. Whiter, wasn't it? Like you'd been living under a rock for months. And the hair, God, did you actually bleach it?"His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath skin."Oh." I laugh with tear. "The facial structure changes, right? What did they do, file down your cheekbones? Reshape your jaw? You look like someone took a chisel to your face."I leaned in closer. "And these ridiculous colored contacts. Hazel instead of brown. Did you

Mia's POVThe drive home felt like swimming through thick honey, each mile stretched into eternity by the phantom ache in my ankle and the phantom pain in my chest that had nothing to do with physical injury. It’s like ascending through layers of water, pressure building in my ears until I had to swallow hard to make it pop.I stood outside my apartment door for a long moment, key poised at the lock, listening to the sounds of life filtering through the wood. Gas barking with the particular timber that meant he was playing, not alarmed. The twins' laughter bubbling up like champagne foam.The key turned with a soft click that sounded like a small bone breaking."Mama!" Alexander launched himself at me the moment I stepped through the door, his small body colliding with my legs with the force of a tiny meteorite. The impact sent a fresh bolt of pain through my injured ankle, but I welcomed it."Easy, baby," I murmured, steadying myself against the doorframe while my son wrapped his ar