27.0
I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story and feeling passionate about it!
?? That said, let's try to keep the comments kind and avoid arguments — this isn't the space for negativity.
I love the community we've built so far and love seeing your comments and reactions!
! Let's all respect each other and keep having fun with the story 33
The line clicked twice before Tati's voice filled my ear.
"Girl, I swear every time you call it's perfect timing. Seth took Miles out for dad and son day and I'm so bored."
I laughed, tucking the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I picked one of Alina's toys off the floor. "Every time Seth and Miles leave you say you're bored."
"Touché." She paused. "So what's got you sounding all sunshine and rainbows?"
"Sunshine and rainbows?"
"Uh-huh. That soft voice.."
I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see me. "I'm not talking any different."
"Mhm and yet somehow, I can hear the smile through the phone."
I bit down on a laugh, glancing toward the hallway where Alina's toys were scattered like land mines. "Fine. Maybe I'm just... in a good mood."
"Let me find out Brooks is the reason."
"He might be part of it," I admitted, quieter this time.
That got her attention. "Oh, so we're admitting it now?"
"Admitting what?"
"That you're letting him back in," she said. "Because last time we talked, you were swearing up and down this was just about Alina."
I leaned against the counter, letting the silence stretch before answering. "It still is. Mostly. But he's been... different, Tati. Present. Steady. It's like he knows exactly what I need before I have to ask."
She made a soft squeal. "That's good."
"I know," I said, but I was smiling anyway. "He just knows what to do and he's so attentive with her. It's just—nice."
"Nice turns into something else real quick if you're not careful," she warned, though her voice was gentle. "You catching feelings again?"
I hesitated. "Maybe I never stopped."
The line went quiet for a beat. Then Tati exhaled. "Well, damn. I mean I already knew that, but I'm glad you're admitting your feelings."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Anyway, his birthday's tomorrow."
"Oh, now I get it. You trying to butter him up for birthday sex."
"Tatiana."
"What? I'm just saying—he's fine and-."
"I was thinking about telling Alina," I said, cutting her off before she could make me choke on air. "That he's her dad you freak."
That stopped her cold. "Really?"
"Yeah," I said, tracing the rim of a coffee mug with my finger. "It feels like time, you know? He's been here almost every day, doing everything a father's supposed to do. She adores him. I really don't see him flaking on her, so why not.."
Tati went quiet again, the kind of quiet she used when she was thinking before speaking.
Finally, she said, "I think that's beautiful, Amira. Scary, but beautiful. You've both earned that moment."
I felt a slow smile tug at my lips. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Prepare to see some tears too . Men be acting all composed till you spring something emotional on them, and suddenly they blinking like they got something in their eyes."
I laughed. "I already know he's gonna cry."
"You probably will too."
"Probably."
"So what you getting him?"
"That's the problem," I said. "I've never shopped for a man before. I don't even think I bought him anything when we were together."
"Oh, this I gotta hear." Tati hummed on the other end. "Start simple. Cologne, maybe. Men love smelling expensive. Or a watch. Or—"
"I'm not buying him a watch," I said, laughing. "He probably has ten."
"Well then, something thoughtful. Something that says I still pay attention."
That line stuck with me long after we hung up.
By the time I got to the mall, the afternoon light had that hazy, soft gold tint that made everything look a little dreamlike. Alina was at daycare, and it felt strange walking through a crowd with no stroller, no bag of snacks, no small hand tugging at mine. Just me.
I wandered aimlessly for a while — through stores I couldn't afford. I went into one boutique with a name I couldn't pronounce — something French that sounded expensive. Inside, it was quiet enough to hear my own footsteps. Shelves lined with neat rows of leather wallets, silk ties, cufflinks.
Something that says I still pay attention.
I ran my fingers over a navy tie patterned with tiny gold flecks. Brooks wore navy a lot. The color made his eyes look warmer.
I was still staring at it when a voice behind me said, "Amira?"
I froze.
It took me a second to place the voice — smooth, practiced, too bright to be real.
When I turned, she was already walking toward me.
Margot looked like she'd just stepped out of a magazine ad — blonde hair in loose, intentional waves, blue eyes clear as glass, skin like it had never seen a blemish.
Her cream-colored coat hung perfectly over her shoulders, not a wrinkle in sight.
The shopping bag on her wrist was from a designer I couldn't even pronounce.
Everything about her said expensive. Controlled. Effortless.
"Amira?" she said, smiling like we were old friends who just happened to run into each other at brunch. "Wow, it's been ages."
My first instinct was to pretend I didn't hear her. The second was to wish I'd walked into literally any other store.
"Hey," I managed finally, keeping my tone even. "Yeah, it's been a while."
She adjusted her bag strap, nails glinting faintly under the boutique lighting. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Yeah. Just looking."
"Of course," she said easily, her gaze sweeping over the displays — then back to me. "Brooks actually brought me here a few weeks ago. After breakfast. We were picking out a tie for a fundraiser."
The sentence landed light, casual — too casual. Like it had been waiting, rehearsed, for the right opening.
My stomach tightened, but I kept my expression still. "Oh?"
"Mhm." She smiled again, all teeth and gloss. "He's got good taste. Always has. Especially when it comes to gifts."
I met her eyes then, matching her smile with one of my own — smaller, quieter. "I bet he does."
For a second, something flickered behind her perfect composure. Disappointment, maybe, that I hadn't taken the bait.
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like we were sharing a secret.
"So... what are you doing here? I didn't know you were into this kind of thing."
Her eyes drifted over me — the sneakers, the simple outfit — before coming back up with a feigned softness. "It's nice though. Treating yourself."
I shrugged, unbothered. "Just browsing."
Her mouth tilted, somewhere between amused and condescending. "That's cute. I remember when I used to browse."
The words hung there — light as air, sharp as a knife.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing to say that wouldn't sound defensive.
Margot tilted her head like she was examining a curiosity behind glass.
Margot adjusted her purse strap, that same polished smile still glued in place. "By the way," she said lightly, as if it were an afterthought, "I sent you an invitation to the wedding. It sucks you didn't show."
My stomach turned. "What?"
Her grin didn't move. "The ceremony. You should've come. It was beautiful. There was press everywhere though. You would've hated it. I know you prefer to be incognito."
For a moment, I thought she might push further — but then her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her whole face shifted into performance again.
"That's probably Brooks," she said, too casually. "He just landed. I told him I'd pick him up."
My heartbeat didn't even stutter. I knew she was lying — the same way I knew when Alina pretended to be asleep. Too smooth. Too eager. Like she wanted me to notice.
"No worries," I said, stepping around her, my tone even. "I'll let you get going."
Something in her smile cracked then, just barely. "Sure," she said, and for the first time, her voice had an edge. "Nice seeing you, Amira."
"You too."
The words came out easy, steady. But my pulse was still quick when I stepped outside.
The scent of the boutique followed me out — heavy perfume, sharp and sweet, the kind that lingered even when you didn't want it to.
By the time I reached the parking deck, I finally let out the breath I'd been holding.
The air up there felt different — cooler, sharper, laced with the faint smell of rain and exhaust. It cut through the leftover perfume still clinging to my clothes, that sickly-sweet reminder of the kind of woman Margot was — or at least, the kind she wanted me to see.
I leaned against the driver's side door and just stood there for a minute, the echo of my heels on the concrete still ringing in my ears. My hands were shaking, but not from anger. It was something else — something smaller and meaner.
Embarrassment, maybe. Or disbelief at how easily she could still make me feel like I didn't belong.
The whole exchange kept looping in my head — the way she said we, like she was placing herself in a sentence that didn't belong to her. The subtle tilt of her head when she looked me over, the deliberate sweetness in her voice. Every word had been dipped in sugar and sharpened underneath.
It was impressive, really. The control. The performance.
She didn't raise her voice, didn't need to. Margot didn't argue — she implied. She let you imagine the worst and then smiled while you did.
I pressed my palms to the cool metal of the car door, trying to ground myself.
Brooks hadn't mentioned her in months. Not once. Maybe that's why I'd let myself believe she was gone — or that she'd never really been there to begin with.
And still... something about the way she said his name had felt too easy. Too familiar.
I didn't believe her story about picking him up — not for a second. But I couldn't shake the thought that she'd wanted me to hear it. Like she was dangling it there, seeing what it would do to me.
That was the part that stuck.