I kept scrubbing the plate.
“Cal’s never been good with kids,” she continued casually. “Or birthdays. Or commitment. You’ll learn.”
I set the plate down harder than I meant to.
“He’s fourteen,” I said. “He deserved acknowledgment. That’s all.”
She leaned against the island, folding her arms.
“You act like Cal owes you both something,” she said. “He doesn’t.”
“I never said he did.”
“You’re living in his house. Carrying his kid. That usually comes with expectations.”
“I expect respect,” I said, turning to face her. “That’s not the same thing.”
She laughed softly. “You’re temporary, Hadley. Don’t build your identity around a man who replaces women like tour setlists.”
My fingers curled into my palm.
“Get out,” I said.
“This is my house too,” she replied sweetly.
She left, hips swaying like she’d won something.
I stood at the sink until the water turned cold around my hands.
......
Kei showed up the next afternoon.
He knocked gently on my door holding a small box wrapped in plain brown paper.
“For Eli,” he said. “Model train set. Thought he’d like it.”
I blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to....”
“I know.”
I called Eli downstairs. He opened the box carefully, eyes lighting up when he saw the sleek black locomotive and tiny interlocking rails.
“Thanks,” Eli said quietly.
Kei smiled and ruffled his hair gently. “Happy late birthday.”
Eli hesitated, then said, “You remembered.”
“Yeah,” Kei said simply. “I did.”
Eli carried the box upstairs, already examining the pieces.
The silence he left behind felt heavy.
Kei followed me to the patio. We sat on the outdoor couch, the ocean breeze carrying salt and warmth across the yard.
“I heard about yesterday,” he said.
