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What do I do? How do I tell my mother her husband is a piece of shit who has been having an affair for who knows how long? How do I tell my sisters their father is an ass? Do I tell them? I need to tell them, right? The more I prolong it, the worse it will be.

I’m annoyed with Rain that he didn’t give me this information earlier so I could deal with it how I wanted. While I’m thankful my sisters are with me and not in a toxic environment, it’s only a matter of time before Dad will come back to take them.

He’s right—they aren’t my children.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I turn it on, rolling my eyes at the million bloody texts from Rain. He’s smart; I thought space would be a word he knew the definition of.

Rain: Stop hanging up on me.

Rain: You can block my number again. I’ll just unblock it.

Rain: Tell your team doctor about your foot. I’m concerned about it.

Rain: Also, tell your team masseuse not to go too close to your ass, cock, or face. I’m getting pissed off at the mere thought of anyone touching you.

My stomach sinks at the next IG notifications.

Connor_row: Can we talk? I miss seeing you.

Connor_row: I meant what I said that night. I love you, Rome.

I cared about Connor; it was four months of us seeing each other before Rain demanded I stop. I felt horrible when those three words came from his mouth, and I just stared at him, unable to say it back. I didn’t feel it, or rather, I didn’t feel what I thought I was supposed to when you love someone. I became reserved towards him the three times I went there after he said it. He played it off and told me I didn’t need to say it back, and I thought maybe if we spent more time together, I’d start to feel the same. The more I tried to force the feeling, the more I realised I never would.

Opening the app, I click on his profile and block it, then read the last text.

Mum: Good morning, sweetheart. Text me after training. I want to talk about Indie and Kilah.

Either I’m about to be face to face with both my parents because this is an ambush, or she will try to tell me what Dad did in a more civil manner.

Me: Meet me at the park, you know the one.

My grip tightens around the umbrella handle as I approach the bench, carrying two takeaway cups. The chilling breeze whips through her hair as she stares out to the trees of Hyde Park. It’s the same seat she always sat in while rocking the twins in their pram, as I practised football.

Everything seemed so simple, and then you grow up and realise just how callous and sharp society is. I still love this spot, though. Nature doesn’t judge you.

As though she can sense me approaching, she looks over her shoulder with a sombre smile. I round the wooden chair, partly kept dry by the trees overhead, and sit beside her, extending the tray.

“You’re so thoughtful, Rome,” she laughs delicately, taking a cup.

“Not sure where I got it,” I tease, taking my own and closing the umbrella.

She takes a sip of the warm tea, letting out a long sigh. “Mr Finch makes the best tea in London.”

I tip my cup to her, agreeing.

My mother’s different in my father’s absence. She doesn’t feel the need to keep up her appearance as much. She is beautiful, and I fear that’s the only reason my father sought her. He was well known and wanted someone he could show off, rather than someone he truly cared for. I’ve started to notice over the last four years how much he controls her, the way she dresses, her actions and words. Whenever they’re in public, she looks to him after speaking, almost as if for conformation her words were okay.

He was twenty-eight, she nineteen when they met. She fell in love, he saw someone he could mould and manipulate.

She runs her unsteady hand down her white woollen coat and then adjusts her Gucci scarf, one I have no doubt I paid for, considering how new it looks.

My father was irresponsible with his money, and his retirement only got him so far. I’m starting to think now that maybe that’s the only reason he ever wanted me to achieve the level I’m at. Money.

“I know you aren’t happy Kilah and Indie are with me,” I say, staring out into the open area before us.

“They don’t want to come back, do they?” Her voice cracks.

“They’re trying to sort through how they’re feeling. Kilah said you both take your anger out on her.”