“That man has always cared more about looking successful than being it,” she muttered one Sunday. “Don’t believe the pictures he shares on Instagram.”
We had already stopped looking. Even Nora had blocked him.
A year passed. Mom still had quiet nights, but she wasn’t broken anymore. She had her own money, her own routines, her own life.
Then one evening, while she was baking cookies just because she wanted to, Lydia called.
“Kayla,” she said urgently, “you need to come here. RIGHT NOW.”
“What happened?” Mom asked.
“Remember what your ex said about your ‘expiration date’? You need to see what he looks like now.”
The drive was silent except for Owen asking, “Is he sick?”
