Page 98 of Wicked Proposal

Let’s stick to the facts, shall we?

Fact: I don’tloveYulian. How could I? He’s selfish, rude, bossy, and always acts like he’s owed the world. I couldn’t stand being in a relationship with a guy like that. I’ve already done it once, and it ended with me faking a miscarriage, changing my name, and packing up my life.

Not exactly “happily ever after” material.

But after last night… I was vulnerable. I was raw. It’s not like I expected breakfast in bed and cuddles, but the way he treated me? It made me feel cheap. Replaceable. Like everything we’d done was just another transaction between us, and I was the only one who hadn’t gotten the memo.

It was humiliating.

“Hurry up, Mommy!” Eli bounces up and down at the door, backpack already strapped to his tiny shoulders. “We’re gonna be late for my first day of school!”

I snap back to the present and grab my keys. “Coming!”

As we walk out the door, I glance at the hidden camera on the wall. It’s too small to be seen, but I bribed Boris to show me the exact spot he planted it. After all, ifI’mnot the mark, why shouldn’t I know where it is?

I blink at it once, twice. I considered learning how to spell “fuck you” in Morse code, but figured it was too much effort for the intended audience.

Here’s your selfie, asshole.

Then I take my kid downstairs.

He spends the car ride in a state of bouncy excitement. His juice spills everywhere on the upholstery, but I can’t quite find it in me to scold him. Seeing him so happy makes me happy, too.

Happier than I’ve been in a long time.

The second I drop him off, he hurtles towards the playground like a bullet, calling out the names of his new friends. “Ally! Marcus!”

“Eli!” The little girl with cornrows waves, flashing a gap-toothed grin. I remember her as the one who begged me to let Eli stay the day we came to visit. That must be Ally.

The kid next to her—Marcus, I suppose—doesn’t lift his gaze from his video game, but once Eli’s there, he shifts to make room, letting him watch.

His first friends.

That realization hits me all at once. I’m on the verge of the ugliest cry in Single Mom history. Eyes red, nose dripping, blubbery and ugly and just overwhelmed.

My son turns to wave goodbye, his smile brighter than I’ve seen it in ages, and I notice it’s the first time he doesn’t linger by me.

The first time he doesn’t cling to my leg, or ask when I’ll be back to get him.

He just grins.

Then he turns and goes to play.

“Emotional first day?” Principal Garcia appears at my side, eyes crinkling behind his thick glasses.

“Sort of.” I quickly wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. “It’s just… It’s been a while since I’ve seen him like this.”

“Kids here band together fast,” he says. “They’re drawn to each other. The quirks that push others away out there—they’re the same thing that makes children click together in here.”

“Same wavelength, huh?”

“In a way.” He nods towards a couple of kids hanging out by themselves. “There are those who prefer solitude, and that’s allperfectly fine, but there’s peace in knowing you can have that here without being ostracized for it. And then, sometimes, those solitary kids learn to be solitary together.”

He points at the sandbox, where a little girl is drawing shapes and another is counting ants just outside of it, in the grass. They aren’t speaking or looking at each other, but their silence doesn’t feel tense at all. “Parallel play. We encourage that a lot.”

Suddenly, I’m reminded of Eli coloring by my side while I sort the bills. The lump in my throat grows tighter.

“I… I can see why.”