Riley Riley tugged the zipper of her bag closed with one hand, balancing the half-empty plate of cake with the other. Her motions were careful, almost mechanical, though her mind drifted elsewhere. The living room still bore the remnants of Aiden’s party—balloons that sagged against the ceiling, frosting smudged across plates, and bright candy wrappers scattered like confetti from the piñata. The sweet smell of sugar lingered in the air, mixed with the faint sharpness of latex balloons. On the couch, Aiden lay sprawled out like a miniature king after a feast, his cheeks sticky with chocolate, his little body fighting the inevitable pull of sleep. His small party hat had slid sideways, tilting comically on his messy hair, making him look like a mischievous elf who had stayed up too long past midnight. He yawned widely, then tried to smother it, shaking his head stubbornly as if that alone could banish fatigue. Riley smiled faintly. “Alright, birthday boy,” she said, setting the pla

Third Person Pov The morning sun poured through the glass walls of the hospital’s courtyard, casting long shadows across the play area where several children gathered, all playing happily lost in their little world of comfort. The air was alive with their laughter, but the brightness couldn’t disguise the tension brewing at one corner. Mirella sat in her wheelchair, her thin fingers clutching the silver necklace hanging around her neck. She touched it often, as though it was a charm anchoring her to something solid. It wasn’t just jewelry to her—it was her mother’s belated birthday gift, proof that Riley still remembered her. Across from her, Darren’s son, Aiden, sauntered closer. His eyes, sharp with mischief, landed on the necklace. Without warning, he reached out and yanked it off her neck with one swift move. “Hey!” Mirella gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “Give it back! That’s from my mom!” “Nope.” “I'm serious, give it back.” Aiden twirled the necklace between his

Kaelen Back in the ward, the room felt quieter than ever. The only sound heard was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Mirella sat curled on the bed, her little hands twisting the sheets. Her eyes were red and puffy, her lips trembling as she tried to hold herself from bawling.I crouched beside her, trying to smile, but my chest felt like it had been crushed.“Hey, sunshine,” I said gently. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”Her chin quivered. “Daddy…” Her voice was small, almost swallowed by the beeping monitors.“Yes, baby?”Her eyes filled with tears again. “I’m sorry.”I froze. “Sorry? For what?”She hiccupped, clutching the sheet tighter. “Because… because of me, Mommy hit you. If I didn’t fight with that boy, Mommy wouldn’t be angry. I made you sad. I’m… I’m a bad child.”My throat tightened instantly. “No,” I said softly. “No baby. Don’t say that. You're not a bad child. You're the best baby girl any parent can ever ask for.”She

Third Person Pov Riley stood frozen, the phone slipping from her fingers and hitting the tiled floor with a dull thud. Her mind went blank. For a second, she thought she must have misheard him. Divorce? Kaelen had always been calm, quiet, patient to a fault. Even when they argued, he never raised his voice. He would listen, reason, sometimes just walk away to avoid escalation. He wasn’t the type of man to say things out of anger. And yet, he had just told her so coldly and clearly that he wanted a divorce. Her hands shook. A sharp, foreign panic surged in her chest. For a few fleeting seconds, it drowned out every thought. She tried to call him again, but the screen was dark. He had hung up. She stared at the blank phone screen, heart pounding so hard it hurt. He couldn’t mean it. He was just angry. That was all. He wouldn’t actually… “Riley?” The soft voice snapped her out of it. She turned sharply. Darren stood beside her, his expression carefully composed, his tone l