He answered on the third ring. “Ash, if this is about the spreadsheet, I already—” A child’s voice shrieked something unintelligible in the background. “Hold on—no, not the crayons—Amelia, I swear to god?—”
Henry snorted. Ethan pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Hi to you too,” I said.
Oliver huffed. “What’s going on? I’m currently being held hostage by my own children. Char’s busy.”
“I need you for two minutes. You’re on speaker.”
“Fine,” he muttered. “What’s this about?”
I leaned back in my chair, aware of how quiet the room had gone. Ethan and Henry were both watching me, waiting.
“I just got off the phone with Dad.”
Ethan’s expression softened instantly. Henry straightened in his chair, eyes warm and attentive. Oliver stayed quiet on the other end of the line, the small sounds of chaos still filtering through.
This was new.
Not the news. The sharing of it. A year ago, I would have processed it alone. Made the decision alone. Carried the weight of it alone. Now three of the most important people in my life were waiting with me.
I looked at them—my brothers, the man I loved—steady, present, here, and I felt it settle in.
Success didn’t feel like distance anymore.
It felt like belonging.
Like family.
Later that day, I walked into our shared apartment with a smile, dropping the package with yet another gift by the door. Normally, just coming home to him made my heart skip a beat.
Today it was different.
Today marked two months.
Two months since we’d stopped pretending this was temporary. Two months of building a life that, somehow, already felt lived in.
We’d spent most of that time here, learning each other’s rhythms in ways that felt both new and inevitable. Christmas had been loud and warm in Long Island—Oliver and Charlotte, the kids, Vivian keeping my father from overexerting himself, and Ethan slipping into the center of it all like he’d always been part of us. We’d kissed our way into the new year, the world outside the windows forgotten as midnight passed. And somewhere between the holiday chaos and the quiet days that followed, we escaped to the coast for Ethan’s birthday—cold air, empty shoreline, his laughter carried away by the wind.
And then we came back to real life.
He dove into his classes and work with a focus that made me proud just to watch. I learned how to leave the office at a reasonable hour, and my company grew without consuming me. I started running again in the mornings, and reading in the afternoons. Not reports, but actual books. Small pieces of a life I’d once enjoyed and forgotten how to be a part of.
Ethan and I weren’t hiding, but we weren’t loud, either. We had dinners out. Morning runs in the park. His hand brushing mine beneath tables. Quiet appearances at private events where people could draw their own conclusions. I wasn’t sure relationships were meant to feel this intense, this fast. A younger version of myself would’ve been spiraling about it. But this—whatever this was—felt natural. Easy.Right.
And something this right deserved daylight. The world was already whispering about us. This time, I wasn’t planning on staying silent. Not for long.
I loosened my tie as I stepped inside, taking in the quiet, pristine apartment, and frowned. “Darling?”
The kitchen was spotless. The dining area was exactly how we’d left it this morning. My mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Where are you hiding?”
“In here.”
I followed the sound of his voice toward the home office. “I thought you’d be slaving away in the kitchen.”
“I lied,” he said. “Can’t cook for shit.”
The door creaked as I pushed it open?—
