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But it’s too late for the tears—they’re already there, warm on my skin, slipping quietly down my cheeks.

I press the heel of my hand to my face, drawing in a slow breath as I try to compose myself, the apartment suddenly feeling too stale, too small around me.

I hope the next few months will be enough.

Enough to put me back together.

Piece by piece.

FIVE

Zayn

“How are things going?” Ethan asks from the couch, one arm wrapped around Thalia’s waist.

She’s sitting comfortably with Serena on her lap, gently keeping her in place as the rest of us drift between breakfast and casual conversation.

“They started three days ago,” I reply, my eyes fixed on my phone as I scroll without really taking any of it in. “I’ll stop by one of the sites around midday, check the progress and meet the designer.”

“So you actually liked him, right?” Sierra calls from the kitchen, where she’s busy preparing Serena’s breakfast.

We’re all at Nick’s house—our new routine over the past few days. Every morning before work, we end up here. No one planned it. It just happened. And I honestly don’t know why we didn’t start doing this sooner. Beginning the day with Serena in my arms, even for a few minutes, changes something inside me in a way I never expected.

Breakfast is half finished, Serena is fully awake now, and Sierra moves through the kitchen with practiced efficiency, juggling three things at once like she always does. Later, Nick will drop Serena off at daycare, and they will head to work.

“Her,” I correct automatically, still not looking up from my phone.

“Excuse me?” Colt says from my right.

“The designer is a woman,” I explain.

I finally lock the phone and slide it into my pocket. I wasn’t even using it properly anyway—just mindlessly scrolling, half distracted, not replying to anything.

“Selene Diaconescu,” I add.

That name alone is enough.

“Oh my God,” Sierra says with a laugh, walking out of the kitchen with Serena’s plate in one hand.

“I can’t believe no one said it was her,” Liam adds, shaking his head.

“Wait, so only Sierra and I thought it was a guy?” Thalia asks, staring at us.

“No, we all did,” Aiden replies. “Who even is Selene Diaconescu?”

“Family friend of our parents,” Kay says, leaning back in his chair. “A well-known interior designer,” he continues, as though that should have been obvious. His tone only makes it sound even more ridiculous that none of us put two and two together.

“So,” Ethan leans forward, his eyes narrowing with that unnerving focus of his. Nothing slips past him—not a change in tone, not the timing of a response, not the slightest hesitation. “How did the meeting go?”

I glance at him briefly, and he holds my gaze without blinking.

Ethan never waits for explanations.

He reads them.

“When I arrived,” I begin, letting the memory settle into place, “I asked where the designer was.”

A few of them are already fighting smiles.