#we're all collectively trusting the process...including me lol

[fratboykate]

Ooooff papi the pain. Maybe I am a masochist. It’s so agonizing but I fucking can’t stop reading it. It’s like eating something painfully spicy, you know?

If you would, allow me to word vomit. I think it’s so sad for me is because a marriage falling apart can happen to anyone. Like somewhere in a kitchen a couple is probably having this exact fight or something similar to it. This is kind like a glimpse through a window of a someone’s marriage and we can see every little dirty, human detail. And it’s heartbreaking. It’s happened a million times before and it's going to happen a million time in the future. and you can do absolutely nothing about it. because people are gonna be people, you know?

I am a hardcore romantic at heart so reading your stuff is almost a traumatic experience. But also it’s good for the soul so 🤷🏻‍♀️. And also I love it

also have you watched Acrane? it has Hailee Steinfeld in it? Probably one of the greatest pieces of media I've ever watched?

You want it to get sadder? I got 10.4k words worth of sad for you lol. You don't HAVE to have read the whole of FBAU so far to enjoy this, but I think I counted at least five other chapters/things that have happened before somehow referenced/called back in here and it just makes it so much more painful if you have that framing. But again, its not required to have that knowledge to understand this. We also see basically every major player in the story so far for at least a little bit. It's a nice roundup.

This picks up about sixteen weeks after the last chapter. It gets...a little Real towards the end so just...1) be warned and 2) trust the process. We're going on a journey here. Y'all just need to let it play out before you start asking for my head on a spike.

---

Yelena never thought she'd use the phrase ‘single parent’ to describe herself. It still sounds wrong when it crosses her mind. Like an ill-fitting jacket someone forced onto her. Like something she borrowed for a night and forgot to return.

But it’s real. It’s her life now.

Her apartment is smaller than the home she shared with Kate, but it’s comfortable. Just big enough for the kids when they stay over, but small enough that she doesn’t feel like a ghost rattling around in an empty castle when they’re gone. She was lucky enough to find a place a few subway stops from Kate's building so the kids don’t feel like they’re ping-ponging between two disparate worlds. She insisted on that. She wanted their lives to feel as seamless as possible despite the disarray beneath it. The world had already shifted under their feet. She wasn’t going to make them deal with unnecessary aftershocks on top of it.

Fifty-fifty custody. Three days at each place, alternating Sundays. A logistical nightmare, but fair.

Fair.

Yelena has no idea what fair even means anymore. It’s a kid asking why she isn’t home all the time. It’s a name missing from the emergency contact list depending on who fills it out. It’s the way the house is always clean now, nothing left out of place, no toys underfoot, no basketball shorts left out of place, no mug left in the sink with Kate’s protein powder stuck on the rim.

It’s quiet.

Even when the kids aren’t there, she wakes up early. It’s not by choice. Just habit. For years, there was always something waking her up before she was ready. Her wife’s wandering hands, a tiny foot pushing into her ribs, the distant hum of Kate on a phone call with Asian clients in another room.

Now, she wakes up to nothing half the time. Nothing but absolute silence.

Yelena swings her legs over the edge, presses her feet into the hardwood, and rakes her fingers through golden locks.

Coffee. She needs coffee.

Yelena moves on autopilot, filling the machine, pressing the button, waiting for the drip. The smell fills the apartment. Familiar. She used to love this part of the morning. Now, she makes the coffee and barely drinks it.

Some mornings, she forces herself to sit at the kitchen table and pretend she enjoys the quiet. Other mornings, it presses against her skull like a vice.

She used to be the type to start working before her second sip of coffee. Now? Most days, she just loiters around the apartment. Thinking. Tinkering. Trudging. Doing nothing at all.

Before, she measured time in deadlines and breakthroughs. Now, she measures it in custody exchanges and school pickups.

Yelena Belova never used to cancel anything work related.

Now? If the kids are with her, she leaves work early. She rearranges meetings. She skips conferences. She bows out of professional trips. She should be enraged about that, about all she’s missing. About how much more she could be doing. And she is pissed. At Kate, at herself, at the situation she got shoved into. But likely not enough.

But the truth is, when she’s with the kids, she doesn’t mind. And she’s getting them back today. The thought tugs at something deep in her chest. A quiet, unspoken relief.

She glances at the clock. She has a few hours before pickup. Enough time to go into the lab, check in, pretend to work for a few hours.

A knock at the door interrupts her before she’s finished the mental list of things to do once she gets to the office. A brute, familiar bang-bang-bang against the wood.

She sighs. Alexei.

A beat of waiting after loudly announcing himself, Alexei uses his keys to get in. They'd learned the hard (and embarrassing) way that him waltzing into the apartment with no warning was a terrible idea that traumatized both of them. Now Alexei knocks and waits a respectable amount of time before entering. At least long enough to warn Yelena that she needs to throw on a robe.

This day that was not necessary. So Yelena simply leans on the counter and waits.

A few thundering footsteps later…there he is. Alexei walks up to the kitchen threshold, holding two paper bags and looking smug.

“I knock loud enough now?”

“You definitely did.”

“No ‘Hello, Daddy’ for me today? Not even when I bring these?” Alexei lifts a couple of pastry bags.

"It’s barely seven in the morning, dad.”

"Breakfast is important. And you forget to eat when you alone." He moves around the kitchen like he owns the place.

"I eat."

“Coffee does not count," he mutters, already unpacking food. "Sit."

Yelena rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. She drops into the chair across from him as he slides a breakfast sandwich her way.

Alexei squints at her like he’s evaluating a patient.

"You look better."

"I look the same."

"Better," he repeats, unwrapping his sandwich. "Less like roadkill."

High praise, coming from him.

Yelena takes a slow sip of her coffee.

"You should be sitting on a beach somewhere, not babysitting your grown daughter."

Alexei retired. Just…stopped. Unexpectedly. Said ‘Fuck it, I’ve worked enough’. The surprising decision came just days after Yelena told them about the divorce. After she cried for hours on their couch. Yelena still doesn’t know if he did it because he wanted to or because she needed him to.

And she sure did need him sometimes. Alexei watches Sonny on the days when Yelena can’t. Picks up Alexia and Maks from school if she’s stuck in a meeting. Stocks her fridge when she forgets.

He is, in his own words, Deda Supreme.

"Don’t flatter yourself," he mutters through a mouthful of food. "I am not just babysitter. I am also your mother’s house husband now. It is me and the kids or me and the pigs. Very important work I do.“

Yelena snorts.

"Bet mom and the pigs love that."

"Oh, she loves it. She gives me list. I ignore list. She yells at me. It is perfect system."

Yelena smirks, shaking her head.

The truth is, Alexei showing up like this is annoying. But also…the only thing keeping her from spiraling some days.

He leans back, watching her carefully.

"You are doing okay? Yes?”

It’s not ‘Are you okay?’ because they both know the answer to that. She nods, pushing a piece of egg around her plate with a fork.

"Yeah."

Alexei grunts like he doesn’t fully believe her, but he lets it go. For a while after that, they just eat in silence.

"You see Kate?" he asks. Throwing the question out there nonchalantly. More curious than he would want it to be.

Yelena keeps her voice even, but the question unsettles her more than it should. She knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time before he asked. But it still grates.

Alexei was Kate’s person for years. They shared the kind of love Kate never got from her own father. And Alexei? He treated Kate like she was his own. Kate was his unofficial second kid. His loudest, brashest, most stubborn child.

And then, just like that, she wasn’t. He chose his actual daughter in the divorce. Yelena knows it shouldn’t feel like a choice, but it does.

He doesn’t talk to Kate anymore. Not really. Not since the moment he found out how things had transpired. Alexei not saying anything is the better alternative to actually talking to Kate and verbalizing the things he would. Yelena has never really asked if they've talked, but she can infer. She knows because she can see how much Kate’s absence weighs on him. She can tell by the way Alexei doesn’t bring her up often. Or at all. Its been almost four months of this and this is the first time she even remembers him saying her name. He hasn't even tried to defend her. Yelena has had to mourn not just the lost of her marriage, but her father losing one of the most relationships in his life. She isn't quite sure which hurts more. And the way he looks at Yelena sometimes…like he wants to say something but swallows it down instead. That’s one of the worst parts of this whole mess.

She’s known Kate long enough to know that Alexei cutting ties is killing her too. Kate doesn’t lose people. She pushes them away. She burns them away. But she never truly loses them. Not until now. And Alexei? He lost her as well. Neither of them will ever talk about it. But Yelena can feel the ghost of it sitting between them.

“Only at drop-offs…Why?”

Alexei shrugs, stabbing at his eggs.

“Just wondering.”

Yelena doesn’t push. Neither does he.

Yelena shoves her chair back and stands.

"I need to go into the lab before I get the kids."

Alexei waves her off. "Go. I’ll clean."

"Don’t break anything," she calls over her shoulder.

She doesn’t hear his response, but she’s sure it’s something sarcastic.

///

When Yelena gets to the lab, she should work. Instead, she just…sits there. She stares at reports for twenty minutes without reading a word. Moves a petri dish from one side of the desk to the other. Rearranges the same stack of notes she’s already attempted to read five times. Her focus is gone.

Before the divorce, work was an escape. A thing she knew she was good at. A place where her decisions had immediate results.

Now, it just feels like…blergh. She doesn’t even realize she’s zoning out until her phone buzzes.

CALENDAR REMINDER: DR. O’GRADY @ 12PM.

“Damn it.”

Yelena sighs, grabs her bag, and gets up.

///

Therapy is therapy. Dr. O’Grady is direct. Unyielding in the way only an older Irish woman can be.

Yelena slouches on the couch, arms crossed.

"Before you say anything, yes, I’ve been sleeping. Yes, I’ve been eating. Yes, I’ve been functioning."

Dr. O’Grady quirks a brow.

"Functioning isn’t thriving, Yelena."

Yelena groans.

“You sound like my mother.”

Dr. O’Grady doesn’t react. Just waits. Yelena sighs, staring at the ceiling.

"I don’t know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me how you’re feeling instead of how you think you should feel."

Yelena doesn’t answer right away. She takes a slow breath.

"I feel…" She pauses. Licks her lips. "Different."

"Explain."

"I don’t know." She shifts, uncomfortable. "Kate backed me into this, and yeah, it’s messed up, and yeah, I was angry, but I’m here…And I’m figuring it out."

Dr. O’Grady nods.

"And what does figuring it out look like for you?"

"It means I wake up, I take care of the kids and try to remember to take care of myself too. It means I go to work and try to get anything done. It means I don’t let this define me."

"Do you still check your phone, expecting a text from her?" Yelena stiffens. Dr. O’Grady’s voice is gentler when she speaks again. "You don’t have to win the breakup, Yelena."

Yelena clenches her jaw, staring at the floor. She doesn’t answer. Because she’s not sure she believes that.

///

The alarm goes off at five-thirty, but Yelena’s already awake. She doesn’t need it anymore. Not when Sonny’s internal clock is better than any piece of technology ever invented.

There’s always a few blissful seconds of quiet, the kind where she almost forgets she’s not waking up in the old apartment, in the life she used to have. Then, reality settles in. A tiny voice crackles over the baby monitor. Sonny babbling in that half-asleep, half-happy nonsense way she does first thing in the morning.

Yelena sighs, throws off the blanket, and swings her legs out of bed. Another day. No time to linger.

By the time she makes it to the nursery, Sonny’s sitting up in the crib, Kate’s coal black hair wild, cheeks flushed from sleep.

“Mamaaaaaaa.”

Yelena leans against the doorway. “You could at least aim for anything past six.”

Sonny giggles, reaching her arms up, demanding. “Mama up.”

Yelena lifts her effortlessly, pressing a kiss against her chubby cheek, breathing in the warm, milky scent of her skin. Sonny hums, content, resting her head against Yelena’s shoulder like she has all the time in the world. For a moment, Yelena lets herself just hold her, swaying slightly on instinct, soaking in the quiet before the chaos of the morning really kicks in.

Yelena walks to the wall and gently taps it twice, voice low but firm.

“I’m coming in to get you in five, so don’t act surprised.”

Inside, there’s a groan followed by a muttered “Too early.”

Yelena smirks.

“Cry about it. You’re still getting up.”

The next bedroom over is Alexia and Maks’ room. A compromise. A necessity. Three bedrooms were the absolute most she could swing in New York City on her single mom salary, and even that was stretching it. A brownstone was out of the question. A four-bedroom was a pipe dream. The kids would have to share.

Alexia hated it at first. Maks didn’t care. Yelena still remembers the first night in the new place…Alexia lying stiff as a board in her bed, refusing to speak, while Maks snored like a chainsaw two feet away.

Alexia made it three days before she finally caved and admitted she could live with it. Begrudgingly.

Still, Yelena doesn’t barge in during the mornings. They’re Kate’s kids, after all. They need a bit of winding up time or they're little cranky demons. She learned that lesson fast.

She hears Maks stirring, rolling over, the distinct sound of him smacking his lips dramatically like he’s waking from a coma instead of a normal night of sleep. Alexia sighs heavily, the universal sound of an older sibling’s deep frustration.

Yelena just leans against the wall, waiting. Five minutes of extra quiet for everyone. No more, no less. The truce they’d landed on. Some battles weren’t worth fighting. Others? She fought like hell.

Sonny clings to her like a koala as Yelena moves around the room. The toddler is warm, heavy, and a little floppy from sleep. It would be nice if they could stay like this. If the morning didn’t immediately have to shift into the barely controlled chaos it always does.

But then…right on cue…she hears it. The sound of Alexia and Maks butting heads in their bedroom.

“You’re so annoying!”

“You’re so annoying!”

“Stop copying me!”

“Stop copying me!”

Someone groans in frustration. A door slams. Something crashes. Yelena takes a deep breath, shifts Sonny higher on her hip, and steels herself for war.

///

By seven, Alexia is at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed, snapping at Maks for ‘breathing too much’. Maks is hanging off the back of a chair, already talking at full volume about something he saw on YouTube. Sonny is smacking a spoon against her high chair like a tiny, chaotic drummer.

It’s a circus. It’s draining. It’s the best part of her week.

"Mama, Maks is making that sound with his throat again," Alexia grumbles, jabbing at her eggs like they personally offended her.

"I’m just clearing it!" Maks protests.

"You're doing it on purpose."

"No, I’m not!"

Alexia levels him with a look. Maks grins. Then deliberately clears his throat again.

“MOM!” Alexia complains.

Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Both of you. Eat.”

“MOM! SHE’S KICKING ME!”

Alexia rolls her eyes so hard Yelena swears she can hear it.

"Eat," Yelena warns. "No more talking."

It lasts a grand total of ten seconds.

“Do ducks know they’re birds?” Maks asks suddenly, looking genuinely concerned.

Kate used to answer these questions. Or, at the very least, deflect them better than Yelena can. But Kate’s not here, so Yelena tries. She tries.

Before she can come up with even a semblance of a coherent answer, Yelena hears the telltale jingle of a spare key in the lock and she knows her morning is about to get a hell of a lot worse.

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s trying to wrestle Sonny into her pants when the door swings open.

“Доброе утро!” [Good morning!] Alexei’s voice booms through the apartment like a goddamn foghorn. “I bring real breakfast.”

Maks is the first to react, immediately jumping out of his chair.

“Deda!”

Alexei barely makes it inside before Maks throws himself at his legs.

“Ah, мой мальчик!” [Ah, my boy!]

Alexei hoists Maks up, swinging him dramatically in the air. Maks shrieks in delight. Alexia, still slumped at the kitchen table, doesn’t even glance up from her plate.

“It’s too early…”

Yelena sighs, trying to keep Sonny from wriggling out of her grasp.

“Dad, if you brought soup again, I swear to God…”

“I bring strong, good, Russian soup. I do not want my babies to be weak.”

“Deda, we hate soup,” Maks reminds him.

Alexei clutches his chest like Maks just stabbed him.

“Deda up.” Sonny requests while lifting both arms.

Alexei scoops her up effortlessly.

“See? This one? Smart. She will respect our family traditions.”

“I just had to stop her from eating a piece of paper. I’d temper those smart expectations.” Yelena says in jest.

“Я тоже ем бумагу. Это нормально.” [“I eat paper too. It's okay.”]

Alexei grins, tossing Sonny in the air just enough to make her giggle. The front door closes again, much softer this time. Melina.

“Alexei, do not throw the baby.” Her voice cuts through the kitchen before she even walks in, immediately taking in the scene.

“She likes.” Alexei protests.

Sonny looks at her grandfather and signs ‘more’ repeatedly.

“See! She likes a lot.” Alexei throws the baby up in the air again.

Melina sighs, placing a massive binder on the counter. Yelena groans.

“If that’s another ‘updated version’ of your binder, I’m setting it on fire.”

Melina helps in a Melina way. Clinical, methodical, and ruthlessly efficient. She made Yelena a co-parenting binder. Thick enough to double as a weapon. Complete with color-coded custody schedules, "empirical resources" on child development post-divorce, a curated list of recommended therapists (vetted…of course), and a financial projection chart mapping out Yelena’s single-income future in excruciating detail. She sends links to peer-reviewed studies on shared custody benefits. She forwards articles titled "The Psychological Impact of Divorce on Children and How to Mitigate Harm." She asks if Yelena has had “productive” therapy sessions with the same tone she once used when quizzing her on chemical compounds. The whole thing is intense, overbearing, and borderline invasive. And while Yelena would rather chew glass than admit it, she appreciates it more than she can say.

Melina ignores her, flipping it open.

“Have you reviewed the meal plan I sent you?”

“The…what?”

“The meal plan. I designed for optimal childhood development. I included omega-rich foods for cognitive function and…”

Alexia groans, shoving a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“Too many words before school.”

“Speaking of school, have you confirmed with Kate about the parent-teacher conferences?”

“Mom…” Yelena interrupts, rubbing her temples. “I love you. I appreciate you, but if you say one more thing that makes me feel like I am doing this wrong, I’ll just stop telling you things.”

Alexei, who has been rummaging through the fridge, emerges.

“You are out of beer.”

Yelena glares at him.

“It’s seven-thirty in the morning.”

He shrugs.

“And? It is afternoon in Moscow.”

Maks, who has been quiet for a suspiciously long time, suddenly tugs on Alexei’s sleeve.

“Deda, do ducks know they’re birds?”

Silence. Alexei strokes his beard.

“Ah. A great question.”

Yelena groans.

“Don’t encourage him…”

“No, no, this is important,” Alexei insists. He turns to Maks, solemn. “Some ducks…yes. They know. They accept the bird life. Others?” He shakes his head. “They struggle. They fight it. They don’t like the expectations of bird society.”

Maks nods, taking this in.

Melina exhales sharply.

“This is exactly why they ask you the ridiculous questions and me the important ones.”

Melina declares as she begins to tidy up around the house. Before Yelena can respond, a spoon clatters to the floor. Everyone turns.

Sonny, looking incredibly pleased with herself, smacks her high chair tray and signs ‘More more more more’.

Alexei beams. “Да! Demand what you deserve, моя девочка!” [“Yes! Demand what you deserve, my girl!”]

“Deda, can you take us to school?” Maks queries.

“He’s gonna make us late.” Alexia argues.

“Me? Late?” Alexei scoffs, placing a hand over his heart. “Impossible.”

Yelena side-eyes him.

“You picked them up late last week.”

Alexei waves a hand.

“I had things to do.”

“You were watching a soccer game.”

“Exactly. Things I was doing. Now? Nothing to do but take these devils to school.”

Maks jumps up and down.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Yelena sighs, giving in. “Fine. You take them. I take the little one.”

Alexei claps his hands together.

“Alright, soldiers, let’s move out!”

He swoops one kid in each arm and heads for the door.

“Do NOT forget their bags this time.”

“I would never.”

“BYE BYEEEEEEE!” Sonny waves both arms wildly as her siblings disappear out the door, her little voice echoing down the hall.

The door shuts behind Alexei. And just like that, the apartment is plunged into a sudden, startling silence.

Yelena collapses into a chair. Her body still wired from the morning mayhem, muscles tense from the constant motion of keeping three kids fed, clothed, and moving in the right direction. It takes her a full minute before she realizes she doesn’t actually have to move anymore.

Melina reappears from the living room, arms full of scattered toys she’s gathered like some kind of overworked maid. A plastic dinosaur dangles precariously from her fingers, and she steps over a half-constructed Lego tower with the precision of someone who has spent far too many years dodging stray bricks.

“You let your father get away with too much,” she remarks, dropping a stuffed elephant onto the dining table with a huff.

Yelena snorts, stretching out in her chair.

“You say that like we’ve ever stopped him from doing anything.”

Melina sighs, flipping open the binder again. Yelena swears that thing balloons in size every week.

“I need you to confirm the holiday schedule with Kate. We need to know where they will be for each major holiday. I would prefer Christmas. She can have Thanksgiving.”

Yelena groans, tilting her head back against the chair.

“Can we survive one day without a schedule?”

“No,” Melina says flatly, barely glancing up.

“This is why Deda is the favorite,” Yelena mumbles, half joking.

“I know.” Melina smirks.

Yelena sighs, dragging herself to her feet.

“You want coffee?”

Melina hums, flipping a page in the binder. “You never said if you reviewed the meal plan. It has balanced dietary recommendations for all three.”

Yelena glares. Melina sighs.

“Fine. Yes, coffee. But if you do not ask Kate about holidays, I will call her… and I do not know how well that will go. For her.”

Yelena sighs heavily but pours her a cup anyway.

“Don’t call Kate, Mom.”

Melina lifts the mug with a satisfied little nod.

For all the chaos, all the headaches, all the everything, this…this…is what keeps her sane. The noise. The movement. The absolute certainty that she doesn’t have to do any of this alone.

Even if she wants to strangle half the people helping.

///

Therapy with three kids is a whole different ballgame. Yelena doesn’t mind her solo sessions with Dr. O’Grady, annoying as the woman is in her ability to see things Yelena isn’t ready to deal with. But therapy with the kids? That’s another beast entirely.

Dr. O’Grady sees all of them now. Yelena. The kids. Sometimes separately. Sometimes together. Right now, they’re all together. Yelena sits between Maks and Alexia on the couch. Sonny is on the floor, attempting to cram a toy into another toy that is very clearly too small.

Alexia is… watching. Not outright angry, not anymore, but cautious. Taking notes. Filing everything away for later. Yelena can feel it. She talks to her, but there’s a hesitance in her voice, like she’s waiting for the inevitable moment one of them fucks up. And she’s going to have some things to say when they do.

Maks doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, but he knows something changed. And he doesn’t quite like it. That’s why he keeps asking when Mommy is coming over for dinner.

Sonny, blissfully oblivious, just knows she has two beds, two toy baskets, and two completely different sets of rules depending on whose house she’s in.

And Kate? Kate is…Well. Kate’s Kate. And at the moment, Kate refuses to do therapy.

Dr. O’Grady shifts in her chair, studying the kids with that careful, quiet way she has. Then, finally, she looks at Alexia.

“Do you have any questions for your mom?”

Alexia is silent for a long moment. She kicks at a loose thread on the couch. Then, finally…

Yelena sees it coming. She tries to head it off.

“Your mom and I both love you,” she says before Alexia can even get the words out, trying not to fidget under Dr. O’Grady’s stare.

Alexia doesn’t answer right away. She looks at the floor.

“Then why don’t you live together anymore?”

Yelena hates that question. There’s no right way to answer it. She takes a slow breath.

“Because sometimes loving someone isn’t enough to make it work.”

Dr. O’Grady shifts slightly like she wants to step in, but she doesn’t. She lets Yelena sit with it. Eventually, Alexia crosses her arms, eyebrows pulling together.

“That’s stupid.”

Yelena exhales.

“Yeah,” she agrees, voice breaking. “It is.”

///

Maks can’t find his left shoe. Alexia forgot she needed a poster board for a project due today. Sonny still refuses to put pants on.

Yelena doesn’t remembers ever having to herd all three of them alone before this. Kate was always there. Or she was dealing with one or two of them somewhere else. Yelena is starting to think this could be considered an Olympic-level sport.

"Alexia, you’re getting way too old to be this disorganized…”

"You’re supposed to help me!"

"I am helping you by telling you to get your things together before the morning it’s due!"

"Mamaaaaa," Sonny whines, wiggling dramatically to push her pants down.

"Yes, I know, pants are oppression, but unfortunately, they are also necessary."

Maks is spinning in circles. "I forgot what I was looking for!"

"YOUR SHOE," Yelena yells, shoving Sonny’s leg into her pants while simultaneously digging through a pile of backpacks.

"OH RIGHT," Maks shouts, then immediately forgets again and starts talking about platypuses.

Somehow, by sheer force of will, Yelena gets them all out the door and into the car.

///

By the time she drops them off at school and daycare, she feels like she’s run a fucking marathon.

She grabs a second coffee, sits in her car for a full minute, then forces herself to drive to the lab, trying to scrape together whatever energy she has left.

The second she walks in, her assistant greets her with a loving grimace, “Were they up all night again?”

Yelena shoves her sunglasses onto her head. “No. They actually slept all night. I think this is just what my face looks like now.”

“Did YOU sleep?”

“Not really.”

He makes a noise of disapproval but hands her a file.

“Well that explains it…Review this before the briefing.”

“Remind me why I don’t just quit and become a full-time mom.”

“Because you’d lose your mind within a week.”

“…Right, yeah.”

He gives her a pointed look.

“Read the file. Let me know if you need me to make any changes”

Yelena sighs. "If I must."

She takes her coffee and heads to her office.

///

The bedtime routine is…organized chaos. Heavy on the chaos part. It’s, as always, a battlefield.

Getting them clean takes twice as long as it should because Maks keeps dunking his head underwater like he’s training for some kind of deep-sea survival mission and Sonny shrieks like she’s being waterboarded. Alexia refuses Yelena’s help with her shower because ‘she’s not a baby like the others’, but Yelena can still hear her struggling to detangle her hair in the bathroom down the hall. Meanwhile, Yelena, soaked to the elbows, tries and fails to contain the splashing, the wailing, and the general bedlam that is bath time.

By the time the kids are clean and wrapped in towels, Yelena is exhausted. And it’s not over.

Sonny fights sleep like it’s an act of war. Maks forgets how pajamas work every single night. Alexia acts like brushing her teeth is akin to brutal manual labor.

“Okay. Final warning. If you’re not in bed in five minutes, I’m making both of you sleep in the bathtub.”

Sonny, sitting on the floor, gnawing on a toy block, looks up with interest. “Bath?”

Maks gasps and speaks over his sister.

“You can’t do that!”

“I absolutely can.”

Alexia groans.

“Maks, she’s lying.”

“Am I?” Yelena raises an eyebrow, the tiniest smirk pulling at her lips.

Sonny drops the block. “Bath?”

Yelena scoops her up. “Oh, now you want a bath? Funny, because I remember you screaming bloody murder during your actual one.”

Sonny frowns like she’s been betrayed.

“You didn’t tell her she had to sleep in the bathtub.” Maks grumbles.

“She’s a baby. Babies don’t sleep in bathtubs.” Alexia clarifies.

“So she’s the favorite?”

“Absolutely.” Yelena ascertains.

When Yelena gets all three of them into pajamas and actually in bed, she’s wrecked. So much so that when they ask to sleep in her room, she doesn’t fight it. She secretly welcomes it. An empty bed is an awful thing.

///

Alexia sprawls out on Yelena’s bed, flipping through something on her iPad while Yelena wrestles Sonny into a clean diaper. Maks, fresh in his dinosaur pajamas, sits on the foot of the bed, dramatically flipping through a book like he’s deeply unimpressed.

“What are we reading?” Yelena asks, rubbing her tired eyes.

Maks huffs.

“I want to read the shark book, but I think we left it in Mommy’s car.”

“So pick something else.”

Maks flops onto his back.

“But I want the shark book.”

“Maksimilian.”

He groans, rolls onto his stomach, and flips a few pages.

“Fine. This one.”

Yelena takes the book from him, barely glancing at the title before he immediately shakes his head.

“No, wait. Not that one.”

Alexia doesn’t even look up. “Oh my God, pick a book.”

“You’re so bossy.” Maks scowls at her.

“I’m the oldest.”

Sonny, half-asleep on Yelena’s chest, perks up.

“Me book.”

“It’s not your turn!” Maks argues.

“Me book.” The toddler pushes back aggressively.

Alexia sighs heavily.

“Just let Sonny pick.”

Maks narrows his eyes, and the histrionics dialed to a twelve, he slides the pile of books toward Sonny. Sonny doesn’t even look at them. She just pats the top book with an incomprehensible babble. Maks sighs, defeated.

“Fine. We’re reading this one.”

Yelena shakes her head, flipping it open.

“Alright, it’s bedtime for real now.”

By page five, Sonny is completely knocked out, sprawled over Yelena’s chest like a tiny human heater. Alexia has shifted, eyes closed, curled up on her side. Maks fights it, blinking slower and slower, trying to keep himself awake. Come the end of the first chapter, he’s practically asleep, too. Yelena closes the book and carefully shifts Sonny. Then Maks mumbles something. Yelena glances down, brushing a stray strand of blonde off his face.

“Hmm?”

“Mommy doesn’t read anymore.” He barely opens his eyes.

The words hit low in her stomach, but Yelena continues to smooth a hand over his hair.

“Yeah? Since when?”

Maks shrugs sleepily, barely nodding before he fully drifts off. Yelena doesn’t move. Just sits there, staring down at him, at Sonny, at Alexia…listening to the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing.

Kate used to read to them. Every night. Even if she was exhausted. Even if she barely had time. She always made time. Yelena doesn’t know what it means that she stopped. And she doesn’t like that she doesn’t know.

When she moves to stand, she glances up and finds that her daughter is still awake. Alexia staring back at her. Watching her.

“You should be sleeping…Do you want me to read more?”

Alexia shifts under the blanket.

“You don’t have to try so hard.”

“I’m just…doing my best.”

Alexia doesn’t answer for a long moment. Then, finally, she shrugs then rolls onto her side, turning her back to Yelena. Yelena knows that’s as much of an answer as she’s going to get. She sighs, pressing a kiss to Sonny’s forehead before gently laying her down between Alexia and Maks. She tucks the blanket around them, smoothing it over Maks’s shoulders before slipping out of the room.

///

The apartment is finally quiet. Yelena leans against the doorframe for a second, exhaling.

There’s still a mess in the kitchen. Crumbs on the floor. A juice cup on the counter. One of Maks’s socks mysteriously on the bookshelf.

She should clean. She should read some reports. She should do literally anything productive. Instead, she drags herself to the couch and collapses, rubbing her temples.

Tomorrow, she has to take them back to Kate. And that, as always, is the part she dreads the most.

///

The morning is a blur of cereal bowls and half-packed backpacks and Maks losing his shoe. Again.

And then they’re in the car, and the drive feels like it always does. Soul annihilating. The car is mostly peaceful, filled only with the occasional hum of the radio and Maks mumbling half-formed stories in the backseat.

When she pulls into the garage, Kate is already waiting. Leaning on her car, parking spot next to her empty. This has become their routine. Yelena doesn’t know what she expects. Maybe another fight. Maybe some passive-aggressive remark about their scheduling. But when Kate steps forward, she doesn’t say anything at all.

She looks…off. Kate isn’t cold. Not exactly. She’s distant. Detached. It’s subtle. So subtle that if Yelena hadn’t known Kate for two decades, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. But she has. And she does.

Kate’s always been a controlled kind of chaotic. Loud but focused. A hurricane with a purpose. But now? Her energy is different. Unsettled. Her clothes are rumpled, like she just pulled them out of a pile on the floor. Her hair is messier than usual. And her eyes…fuck, her eyes…there’s something off about them. Even the shade of blue looks Not Right to Yelena. Like she’s too wired and too exhausted at the same time. But Yelena doesn’t say anything right away.

Kate helps Maks unbuckle his seatbelt. Alexia lingers, hesitating before stepping out. Sonny is half-asleep in the car seat, unaware. Yelena quietly works on unstrapping the toddler.

Alexia and Maks barrel past them into the elevator area, barely giving Kate a passing glance before heading inside. Kate doesn’t react to them, doesn’t make any move to pull them into a hug or ruffle their hair. That’s weird. Kate has always been the one who reached for them first. Always touched their heads, their shoulders, their backs. Subtle, barely-there things that had nothing to do with a greeting and everything to do with ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’. But now? Zero. That’s not something her old Kate would do.

Kate takes Sonny from Yelena’s arms without a word, shifting her weight like she can’t stand still for too long. Her jaw is tight, her eyes unreadable, like she’s narrowly holding something together.

“You okay?” Yelena asks, watching her carefully.

Kate glances at her, startled.

“What?”

“You look…” Yelena hesitates, watching Kate more closely.

Kate’s expression falters for just a second before locking back into something unreadable.

“Just tired.”

It’s too fast. Too defensive. Yelena frowns.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kate scoffs, shifting Sonny on her hip.

“Why do you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yelena crosses her arms, softens.

Kate’s expression tightens.

“It’s not your job anymore.”

There’s a heat behind her words. Not full fire…just embers, waiting to catch.

“Kate.”

“I have to put Son down for her nap.”

The finality in her tone is clear. Yelena doesn’t push. Kate turns and walks into the elevator area without another word. Yelena watches her.

The kids move inside the elevator, dragging their bags with them. Maks waves at Yelena with a smile. Alexia glances back just once before disappearing through the door. Kate doesn’t linger. She steps inside. The door closes.

Yelena stays in the car for a moment, staring at the elevators. She doesn’t know what she just witnessed. But she knows Kate. And something isn’t right.

After a long pause, she pulls out her phone and dials. Susan picks up on the third ring.

“Hi! You still owe me that girls night by the way. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Yelena forces a laugh.

“We will. I promise….When’s the last time you talked to your sister?”

Susan goes silent, then sighs.

“What did she do now?”

“Nothing…That’s the problem.”

“Define ‘nothing’.”

“I don’t know. She feels off. The kids ran inside, and she barely looked at them…When did you last talked to her? Saw her?”

Yelena waits.

“Not for a while.”

“Why?”

Susan sighs. “Yelena…”

“I’m not starting anything,” Yelena says quickly. “I just…I know her. And I can feel it.”

“I love that loser, I do. But she’s a goddamn mess. And I can’t…be around her energy right now. She doesn’t listen. So why would I bother talking? I’m letting her sit in her shit for a while. She needs a time out.”

Yelena hesitates, debating how much to say. She doesn’t want to stir the pot if there’s nothing there. But she knows what she saw.

“She seems…I don’t know.” Yelena admits. “Something’s not right. I’m worried.”

Susan doesn’t argue. That silence says enough. Yelena’s stomach twists.

“You are too, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know either.”

“I don’t buy that.”

Susan groans.

“You two are so annoying. Always in each other’s business even when you’re divorcing.”

Yelena tightens her grip on the steering wheel.

“She’s technically still my wife…For a couple more weeks at least.”

Susan doesn’t say anything at first. Then…

“…I don’t think she’s okay, but that’s her own doing. If it makes you feel better, I’ll check on her.”

“It would make me feel better. Thank you…And, uh…let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

They hang up.

Yelena sits there for another beat, staring at her phone, waiting for something she can’t quite name. But nothing happens. So she starts the car. And drives away.

/// — \\\

Kate’s days without the kids are nearly unbearable. Time stretches in all the worst ways. Dragging. Bleeding into itself until she loses track of it completely. She hates them.

She never used to feel alone in her own house. Even before the split, even if she and Yelena weren’t speaking for whatever stupid reason, there was always noise. The kids. T he creaky floorboards. The way Yelena would sigh dramatically over some work thing as she sat at the kitchen table, tapping her pen against her laptop. Even if they weren’t talking, Yelena had been there. Had been there for years. And now she’s not. Now the apartment is dead quiet.

Kate wakes up early out of habit, but there’s no reason to. No Sonny babbling. No Maks breaking anything. No Alexia blasting cartoons way too damn early. No one to force her out of bed except herself.

Some mornings, Kate stays there for hours.

Other mornings, she gets up and makes too much coffee for one person. A habit. She drinks one cup and lets the rest sit on the counter until it goes cold. She doesn’t pour it out. Just leaves it there, staring at it like it might do something.

Without the kids, without anything to distract her, it all comes creeping in. The resentment. The regret. The rage. She’s so fucking angry. At Yelena. At herself. At this entire fucking situation.

She tells herself she doesn’t miss Yelena, because that would imply some kind of softness, and she’s not soft about this. The divorce was necessary. Yelena didn’t fight for them, so Kate had to do what she always does…fix the problem. Cut off the loose ends. Move the fuck on.

Except she hasn’t moved on. She can’t. She sees Yelena constantly. At custody exchanges. At the kids’ school. In Maks’s stubborness, in Alexia’s face, in Sonny’s little mannerisms.

Kate spends half her time trying not to think about Yelena, and the other half convincing herself she doesn’t care what Yelena does anymore. But she does. She does care. And that pisses her off more than anything.

Because Yelena is fine. She sees it. At drop-offs, at pick-ups. The way Yelena carries herself now. Like she’s lighter. More put-together. Like she’s thriving in a way that Kate isn’t. She looks good. Not just physically, but okay. Relaxed. Settled. Like this divorce didn’t fucking gut her the way it has Kate.

It makes Kate want to fucking scream. Because this isn’t how it was supposed to go. Yelena was supposed to hurt too. Yelena was supposed to fucking fall apart, and instead, she’s just…fine.

Kate should be happy about that, right? The mother of her kids is handling this well. She’s adjusting. She’s making it work. So why does it make Kate feel like she’s losing the divorce? Even if its not a game, she feels like she’s losing and that enrages her most days.

The days without the kids stretch into themselves. Her routine is shot to hell. Work doesn’t keep her occupied the way it used to. The company is fine…thriving, even…but she’s not focused the way she should be. She’ll sit in a meeting and barely process what’s being said, mind wandering to the clock, to the calendar, to how many more hours until she has nothing to do. Nothing to drown out the noise in her head.

She works late, not because she needs to, but because it keeps her occupied. The company has become less about her career and more about noise. She takes meetings she doesn’t have to. Stays long after everyone else has gone home.

She fills the silence with anything she can find.

When the kids aren’t with her, she goes out. Not with friends. Not with anyone who actually knows her. She’s pushed all those people away. So Kate finds noise. Bars. Places where she can be something else, someone else, even if it’s just for a few hours.

She drinks too much. She flirts with people she has no interest in. She lets herself get swept up in meaningless distractions, lets strangers talk at her, lets the bass of whatever music is playing drown out the thoughts clawing at the back of her mind.

It’s all so fucking empty. And the second she’s alone again, it crashes back down. The house. The quiet. The space Yelena used to take up. She doesn’t let herself sit in it for too long. Because that would mean acknowledging it. And Kate refuses to do that.

///

The days with the kids are different. With them, she has structure. Purpose. She wakes up early because she has to.

Sonny cries and Kate moves without thinking, scooping her up, pressing kisses to her hair as she soothes her. Maks is up within minutes, bouncing into her room with a thousand questions before Kate can even blink. Alexia takes longer to wake up. She’s always been like that. Slow in the mornings. Pensive. Observant.

The house is loud when they’re there. It’s never been clearer how much of her life is defined by them.

She moves through the morning on autopilot. Breakfast. Packing lunches. Chasing Maks down to make sure he *actually* has underwear on before they leave. Getting everyone out the door before they’re late for…whatever it is they're supposed to be doing that day.

It’s normal. It’s the only part of her life that still feels like hers. The only time she feels like herself is when they’re here.

But they’re only here half the time. And when they leave, it’s back to square one. Back to silence. Back to wondering why the fuck she let this happen.

///

Kate hears Susan before she sees her. It’s impossible not to.

She’s barely had time to get the kids settled in when the telltale shuffle of sneakers against hardwood floors and the exaggerated sigh of a six-months-pregnant woman reaches her ears.

“Jesus, Katherine. This place is depressing,” Susan mutters as she drops her bag on the entryway table, hand pressed to her lower back. “You know they make lamps that don’t give off ‘abandoned psychiatric ward’ vibes, right?”

“What are you doing here?”

Susan rolls her eyes, shrugging out of her coat.

“Came to see my favorite nieces and nephew.”

“They’re the only ones you have.”

“That’s why they're my favorite. Also…”She glances down at her stomach, patting it. “…the parasite inside me is demanding spaghetti and I know you have to make them dinner so…you might as well make me what I want for dinner too.”

“Does it look like I take requests?” Susan simply glares. Kate huffs a laugh despite herself, shaking her head. “I’ll start some water.”

The kitchen is bright compared to the rest of the house. Not warm, necessarily, but it’s lived in…mostly because the kids exist in it. There are dishes in the sink, half-empty snack boxes on the counter, and an unclaimed sock near the fridge that Kate refuses to acknowledge.

Susan doesn’t hesitate before making herself at home. She drops into a chair at the dining table, stretching her legs out with a groan.

“Where are they?” she asks, rubbing a hand over her belly.

“Sonny’s napping. The other two are probably in their rooms,” Kate says, filling a pot with water. “Leo is still bouncing off the walls from whatever sugar Yelena let him have before drop-off, and Alex is acting like I personally ruined her life by asking her to unload the dishwasher.”

“That one’s your clone, you know.” Kate glares at her, setting the pot on the stove. “Just saying.”

The sound of small feet pounding down the corridor interrupts whatever insult Kate was about to throw back. A second later, Maks appears in the doorway, wide-eyed, slightly breathless.

“SUZU!”

Susan barely has time to react before Maks launches himself at her, arms wrapping around her in a bear hug. She grunts but laughs, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, bug. Miss me?”

“Yes,” Maks says, muffled against her shoulder. Then he pulls back suddenly, eyes dropping to her stomach. “Is the baby still in there?”

“Nope. I already had it, and I just like walking around with a fake belly for fun.”

Maks frowns, considering this. Alexia appears in the doorway a second later, arms crossed. She takes in the scene, then sighs heavily.

“You’re going to make her back hurt.” Alexia reprimands him.

“My back already hurts. Kid’s gonna come out with his arms crossed if the attitude I’m dealing with in utero is any indication.”

“It’s a boy?!” Alexia’s lips twitch in a half smile.

Susan shrugs.

“Dunno. Doctor won’t tell me.”

“Why?” Kate inquires, confused.

“Because we told them we don’t want to know.” Susan smirks at her sister.

“You don’t want to know?” Maks’ face scrunches in disbelief.

“Nope. Gonna be a surprise.”

Maks looks appalled. Kate watches them interact, something unsteady curling in her gut. It’s too normal. Too easy. Too much like how things used to be. She turns back to the stove, stirring the water just for something to do.

///

Later, after dinner, bedtime is a full-blown event.

Susan tries to help, but Kate stubbornly refuses the assistance. So Susan sits back and watches, arms resting over her stomach, amusement clear on her face.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” she points out as Kate struggles to get Sonny settled in her crib.

“I don’t need your help.” Kate glares at her, jaw tight.

Susan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. Just waits.

Eventually, Maks and Sonny are both down, Alexia disappears into her room with her headphones in, and Kate trudges into the living room, exhausted.

“You can go now.”

“Yeah, no. We’re not gonna do that.”

“Do what?”

Susan gestures at her, at the house, at the entire situation.

“This thing where you pretend you’re fine when you’re very clearly not.”

 “Suze…” Kate grits her teeth.

“You look like shit.”

“That’s not your problem. Not anyone’s problem.”

Kate begins to tidy up. Just to do something. Just to not have to look at her sister.

“You always do this.”

“Oh, great. Here we go.”

Susan doesn’t let Kate get away with it. She pushes off the couch and steps forward, voice steady. Aimed.

“You’re too old for this, you know?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Susan takes a step closer, eyes narrowing.

“It means you’re too grown to be acting like DJ.”

The room goes silent. Kate’s whole body locks up. There are certain things you don’t fucking say. Certain things you don’t bring up. Certain wounds that have been closed…or at least buried so deep they should be closed. Susan just cracked one wide open.

“You need to watch yourself.”

“Why? Did I hit a nerve?”

Kate flinches. Her fingers twitch at her sides, hands curving into fists. Susan doesn’t stop.

“You remember how Deej used to tell us he was fine? How he always had some excuse for why his life was going to shit?” Her voice is razor-sharp now, hitting Kate exactly where she doesn’t want to be hit. “How it was NEVER his fault? How it was everyone else who didn’t understand? How he could quit whenever he wanted, how it wasn’t THAT bad. You…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.” Kate snaps.

Susan does not.

“YOU are doing the same fucking thing. You’re making the same excuses, telling the same fucking lies. And you want to know the real kicker? The thing that set DJ down that road was them. It was Mom and Dad. It was growing up in a house where love felt like a fucking death match where no one ever got out whole…Just like the house you’re making your kids live in now.”

Kate feels her vision blur with rage.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

Susan tilts her head, giving her this look…an almost pitying, disgusted look.

“You’re not even Mom. You turned into Dad, Kate.”

Kate sees red.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

Susan doesn’t even flinch. She just stands there. Watching her. Kate’s breathing is ragged. Her pulse is roaring. Susan doesn’t even look shaken. Just…resigned.

“You really think you’re better than him?” she asks, voice softer now. “You really think you’re doing something different?”

Kate’s throat burns. Susan stares at her for another long moment. Then, she shakes her head.

“You know what’s funny?” Susan tilts her head, voice deceptively casual. “I told you this would happen. I told you, years ago, the first time you tried to pull this divorce shit, that if you actually went through with it, Yelena was going to thrive, and you were going to be miserable. And, huh…Look at that.” She gestures at Kate. “I was fucking right.” Susan shakes her head. “I know this isn't even how bad it’s going to get because, how do you think its going to feel when she starts seeing someone else. I also told you that, remember? Your wife…”

“Ex-wife.” Kate corrects venomously.

"YOUR WIFE is one of the best people I've ever met. I don't even know how she's still single. But she won't be for long. So what happens to you when you have to see that? Hmmm? Her. With someone else. Your kids in another family. And you won't be able to say shit about it."

Kate wants to hit something. Wants to break something. Wants to scream 'You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about', but she can’t. Because deep, deep, deep down…a part of her knows Susan isn’t wrong.

“You don’t get to be mad at her for moving on when you did this..." Susan surveys her. Takes in her rigid stance, her baller up fists. She shakes her head. "Deej resented you for being okay. For being able to come out of it fine. To have a life after all that shit when he couldn't. You're doing that now. You're Deej. And you're dad. How sad, Kate."

“Fuck you.” Kate’s voice is raw when she finally speaks.

Susan’s mouth tightens, but she doesn’t look mad. Just… disappointed. Like she expected more. Like she’s done.

“Yeah,” Susan mutters, grabbing her coat. “Fuck me, I guess.”

Susan watches Kate for another long beat. Then, she heads for the door. She doesn’t even slam the door when she leaves.

The quiet is worse.

Kate stares at the spot Susan just vacated, chest heaving, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles are white.

She rushes to the living room bar cart and pours herself a drink. She drinks it too fast. It burns. She pours another.

The cacophony in her head doesn’t quiet.

Kate doesn’t even bother with a glass the third time. She reaches for the whiskey bottle and drinks straight from it. She barely registers the sting. She just takes another gulp. And then another.

She presses the back of her hand to her mouth and exhales hard through her nose, blinking rapidly, as if that’ll stop the fucking shaking in her hands.

She’s fine.

She just needs something to take the edge off. To drown out Susan’s fucking voice still bouncing around in her head.

You're Deej. And you're dad. How sad, Kate.

Kate tips the bottle again. She isn’t her father. She isn’t. She just…fuck. FUCK!

Kate grabs her phone, swiping through contacts she has no intention of calling. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want a conversation. She wants noise. She wants a distraction. She wants to drown in something. Anything. Whatever isn’t this feeling.

She closes her messages and opens a dating app instead.

The profile pictures blur together. Smiling faces, sultry smirks, bio after bio of meaningless bullshit. She barely reads them. Doesn’t care. She thumbs through them, swiping right on the ones that look like they won’t talk too much. She has her first match within seconds.

Hey.

Hey.

What are you up to?

Nothing. You?

Nothing. Want company? Come over.

Kate exhales slowly. The resounding ‘yes’ in the response might be the best word Kate’s heard all day.

///

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock at her door.

Kate barely remembers which one she picked, but it doesn’t matter. She opens the door, and there’s a girl standing there. Brunette, short skirt, black boots, waaaaay younger than Kate should be fucking. This girl is the exact opposite of everything Yelena is. Was that intentional? Kate doesn’t know.

“Hey,” the girl purrs, leaning against the doorframe like she’s done this a thousand times before.

Kate could not care less.

“Yeah. Come in. You have to be quiet. My kids are sleeping.”

The girl steps inside without hesitation, glancing around like she’s sizing up the upscale apartment. Kate doesn’t offer her a drink. Doesn’t ask about her night. Doesn’t bother with the niceties. She doesn’t fucking want to know this girl’s name. She just grabs her by the wrist and drags her to the bedroom.

To her bed. The one she used to share with Yelena. The girl giggles.

“Someone’s impatient.”

Kate doesn’t answer. She just pushes her onto the bed and crawls on top of her.

It’s easy. Mindless. Lips on skin. Hands tugging at clothes. A body beneath her that doesn’t fight her. That doesn’t argue. That doesn’t demand anything from her. The girl moans and sighs and moves the way Kate wants, and for a little while, it’s quiet in Kate’s head.

///

An hour or so later, they lay in bed. Catching their breaths. The girl leans over to grab her purse, digs through it.

“You want a bump?”

Kate freezes. The girl is grinning at her, lazy, sated, pulling a little baggie from her purse.

“Or…nah?” the girl teases, shaking it between two fingers.

Kate stares at it. Her pulse kicks. She hasn’t done coke (or any drugs for that matter) since she was a dumbass college kid with no responsibilities and no consequences. Since before that night Yelena caught her getting high and ripped her a new one.

The smart thing would be to say no. The right thing would be to say no.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Kate’s never been known for being smart or right.

The girl grins wider and dumps a little onto the nightstand. Kate watches, detached, as she takes the first hit, then taps her finger against the surface.

“Go for it.”

Kate hesitates. For a second. Then, before she can talk herself out of it, she leans down and does the line.

Fuck.

She tips her head back. Blinks. It’s been a long time. The burn in her nose is familiar. The rush that follows is instant. She exhales hard, and it’s like everything loosens.

“That good, huh?” The girl laughs, pressing closer.

Kate grins. For the first time all fucking night, she grins. And then she rolls the girl onto her back and fucks her again.

She doesn’t think about the fact that this is the same bed Yelena used to fuck her in. She doesn’t think about the fact that she doesn’t even remember this girl’s fucking name.

She just chases the high, drowns herself in it. And when it wears off…Kate simply does another line.

///

Kate leans against the bathroom sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Her pupils are blown, her skin flushed. She looks awake. Alert. More alive than she has in weeks.

She sniffs hard, then runs the back of her hand under her nose just to be sure. The girl…fuck, what was her name?…is still sprawled out in her bed, half-asleep, looking as wrecked as Kate should feel. But Kate doesn’t feel wrecked. She feels good. She feels…quiet.

It’s the first time in months that her head isn’t roaring with noise. The static is gone.

Kate steps out of the bathroom, grabbing her phone off the dresser as she moves. 4:58 AM. The kids could wake up any second. She shakes the girl’s shoulder.

“You gotta go.”

“Mmm, rude.” The girl groans, cracking one eye open.

“I’m serious. Put your clothes on.” Kate doesn’t humor it.

The girl groans louder, stretching like a satisfied cat, then finally starts pulling her clothes on.

“At least let me have coffee before you kick me out.”

Kate doesn’t answer. She’s busy checking the nightstand.

There’s still a little left in the bag. She rolls it between her fingers. The girl catches the movement and smirks.

“Want another?”

“Yeah.” Kate has zero hesitation this time.

She takes two more lines before walking the girl to the door. She doesn’t feel tired. She doesn’t feel drained. She feels ready.

By the time the kids wake up, Kate is on it. Breakfast is already going, lunches are packed, backpacks are lined up by the door.

Alexia steps into the kitchen, brow furrowed.

“You’re happy.”

Kate grins, flipping a pancake.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…smiling. It’s different.”

Kate tosses a pancake onto a plate and slides it in front of her.

“Mom just woke up in a good mood.”

Something pricks at Alexia…but she just nods and lets it go.

Maks, oblivious, scrambles up onto a chair and immediately launches into his morning monologue about some game he’s playing on the iPad. Sonny happily plays on her mat.

Kate moves through it all effortlessly. No headache. No irritation. No exhaustion pressing down on her ribs. It’s easy. They’re loud. But she’s quiet. The right kind of quiet.

///

Kate gets them to school on time. No scrambling, no forgotten homework, no yelling over missing shoes. She even remembers that today is Sonny’s picture day and gets her all dressed up.

It’s perfect.

And then…Kate looks down at her phone.

Seven missed calls.

Fifteen messages.

Her assistant’s name dominates the screen:

Where are you??

You have that Impact Co. meeting in ten.

KATE!…

The meeting started.

ANSWER YOUR PHONE.

Kate blinks. The noise rushes back.

She was supposed to be at work an hour ago. She groans, forcing herself to think. She can still make it. She can just blame it on traffic, make a joke about how it’s been one of those mornings…

But her feet aren’t moving toward her car.

She looks up.

The bar is still there.

The same one she used to drag DJ out of. The one where she got her head bashed in for trying to fight with the dealers.

It’s still standing. Still open. Still servicing its…special clientele. The smart thing would be to keep walking. To go to work, fix her fuck-up, act like everything is normal…But Kate doesn’t feel smart right now. She doesn’t want to be.

She shoves her phone into her pocket and steps inside.

The smell is the same. Stale beer, sweat, something funkier underneath.

The bartender doesn’t even look up as she slides onto a stool. She orders whiskey. Downs it in two gulps. Then she looks for someone who can sell her what she really came here for.

It doesn’t take long.

///

Kate walks out of the bar with a bag of coke in her pocket and no intention of letting the noise get the better of her until she has to pick the kids up from school.