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The weekbefore the final hearing, the air felt wrong. Too tight. Like something was being held back. Pressure before a storm. The pause before a scream.

Seven and a half months since the courthouse wedding. Since I’d stood in a borrowed dress, pen shaking just enough to notice, signing papers that were never meant to last.

Seven and a half months since Liam and I had shaken hands across a firehouse table and agreed—quietly, carefully—to save each other.

Tuesday.

The final custody hearing.

Five days away.

After that, Mia would be mine. Not just in practice. Not just because everyone had already decided it that way.

Legally. Permanently. Irrevocably.

The word settled heavily in my chest.

Mine.

Five days.

I counted them without meaning to. On my fingers. On my breaths. On the hours I couldn’t quite sleep through.

We just had to make it five more days.

I didn’t know why my shoulders stayed tight.

Why I kept listening for sounds that weren’t there.

Why every quiet moment felt like the one right before something broke.

Five days shouldn’t have felt this long.

Todd was out on bail.

Strict restrictions. No contact. No proximity. An ankle monitor strapped to his leg, tracking every step. The judge had been clear. One violation and he’d be back in a cell until trial.

I knew all that.

I felt him anyway.

A pressure at the edge of my awareness. Like a sound just below hearing, impossible to ignore.

The weight of eyes on me when I crossed the yard to my truck. The slow crawl between my shoulders when I stood at the kitchen window too long.

Three hang-up calls in the past week. Blocked numbers. Nothing on the line but breathing before the call went dead.

A car passed the ranch yesterday. Too slow.

Dark sedan. Tinted windows. I couldn’t see the driver.

It didn’t stop. Just eased off the gas at the mouth of the driveway, lingered for a beat too long, then moved on.

I told myself I was imagining it.

That the monitor would scream if he got close. That systems existed for a reason. That alarms worked. That rules mattered.

My body didn’t buy it.