Page 68 of A Sinful Gravity

I opened it. A planning document.

The cover read: Laila Education and Life Planning Proposal.

I looked up at him. What was he trying to do?

"Take a look."

I flipped through it. Washington's top children's ballet programs, preschool education resources, each with detailed descriptions.

The middle section covered healthcare—recommended pediatricians, child psychologists, dental clinics, and even nutritionists. Further on, residential considerations—community safety ratings, children's activity facilities, nearby parks, libraries.

The final pages outlined the best options for Laila across all categories.

Every page was in color, with charts and images.

I looked up at him.

"What is this?"

"I know I've done a lot wrong," he said. "So I made this."

He looked at the proposal.

"Laila needs a stable environment. Your current apartment—the neighborhood isn't safe. I'm not saying you can't take care ofher. You've done an amazing job, better than anyone. But some things, you can't handle alone."

"And Laila's growing. She's at the age for proper education." Cassian looked at me, his tone serious.

I wanted to argue, but he was right.

The apartment building's security gate was broken, the hallway lights didn't work, and the corner by the next street really wasn't safe. Every night I came home, I'd double-lock the door, but I still worried.

"My place has a better environment," he continued. "Private yard, twenty-four-hour security, the best amenities nearby. I'll arrange for someone to teach her, care for her. If you're willing, you can move back. You'd have your own space."

"Impossible." I closed the file, anger creeping into my voice. "Cassian, you think I'd subject myself to your control for these so-called 'resources'?"

"No. The house has your name on it—it's yours. You'd have your own room, independent access, and complete autonomy. I promise not to interfere with your life."

I stared at him. Years of pain had kept me from thinking about my assets here.

"You can leave anytime," he said. "I've drafted an agreement you can take home and review. It explicitly states you have complete autonomy, you can move out whenever you want, I won't stop you. And the place is really suitable for a child now."

"What do you mean?" I crossed my arms defensively.

His voice dropped.

"I had it renovated. Converted a room into a nursery, bought child-appropriate furniture. Added a fence and swing set in the yard, planted some hydrangeas—the ones you like. I know you might not come, but I prepared anyway."

I opened my mouth, didn't know what to say.

He took a deep breath, like making some enormous concession.

"I admit it. I want Laila to be my child. But even if... even if she's really not, I still want to make up for these six years I wasn't there for her. Just for Laila's sake, give her a better environment. Please?"

That last sentence, he spoke through clenched teeth. I could see the struggle and doubt deep in his eyes, but for me to stay, he'd chosen this humbling retreat.

We both fell silent.

"Chloe will visit often." He broke the silence. "You know how much Laila likes her. With her there, you can rehearse without worry."