1 | Eva

It has been two years since my smile faded into oblivion.

Two years since I lost everything. Since I lost myself. Now, I exist in the hollow embrace of darkness, an echo of the person I used to be. I never imagined my life unraveling into this twisted fate, but here I am-adrift in the void.

I don't curse time or fate. No, the blame is mine alone. My choices, my decisions-they carved this path I now walk. Regret slams into my chest like a merciless sledgehammer, yet at times, a cruel whisper tells me I did the right thing. I don't know which feeling to hold on to, so I surrender to the current of life, letting it drag me wherever it pleases. Sooner or later, it will catch on something. Maybe then, I'll figure it out.

Until that day, I remained like this-shattered, barely a ghost stitched together by sarcasm and survival. A burden. A misplaced existence. But if I am doomed to this, at least I'll do it with a mouth that never learned restraint. Not my fault, though. Manufacturing defect.

I am a software engineer in one of the so-called best companies. The paycheck is enough to keep my world from crumbling further, to keep the one thing that still matters safe.

My son. Asher.

He is my everything. My light in an abyss that refuses to let me go. The reason my lungs still drag in breath, the force that compels me to function when all I want is to collapse.

Asher-my heart, my soul, my darling boy. His laughter is the only melody that doesn't feel like a cruel joke. His tiny arms, the only refuge where I don't feel like a mistake. He is love in its purest form, the only piece of me that isn't tainted, the only thing keeping me from sinking completely.

And for him, I will endure.

Asher is a whirlwind of energy, a tiny force of nature wrapped in endless enthusiasm. A born explorer, curious about everything, never hesitating, never afraid. Unlike most kids his age, he never protests about going to school. In fact, he wakes me up each morning, his little hands shaking me with determination, eager to start his day.

He doesn't just make friends-he collects them, weaving his magic on everyone he meets. His classmates, their parents, even the teachers-they all adore him, drawn in by the sheer light he radiates. Sometimes, I watch the way they look at him, the way they laugh at his jokes, ruffle his hair, and I swear a ridiculous twinge of jealousy burns in my chest. He's my son, though.

With his soft black hair, big brown eyes that sparkle like melted chocolate, chubby cheeks made for kisses, and those tiny lips that pout in the most heartbreakingly adorable way-even a predator would stumble, completely disarmed by his charm.

Whenever I show up at his school gates, his tiny legs propel him toward me at full speed. He launches himself into my arms, wrapping around me like I'm his entire world. And maybe, just maybe, I am.

His laughter, his smile-those are the only things I have ever yearned for, the only things I will never stop chasing.

"Ash, don't come down. Stay on the porch."

The lawnmower hums beneath my grip as I push it forward, slicing through the overgrown grass. It's ridiculous how fast this stuff grows. I swear I just mowed it-what, two months ago?

Okay... maybe I'm a little lazy when it comes to chores. But can anyone really blame me? I'm a full-time mother and a weekday software engineer. My schedule is tighter than my damn jeans after a cheat day. There's barely a second to breathe, let alone play housemaid. And with Asher keeping me on my toes 24/7, the last thing on my mind is a perfectly manicured lawn.

"Okay, Mommy! If I behave, will you give me jelly after you work?"

His tiny voice cuts through the mechanical drone, sweeter than sugar and warm enough to melt the coldest stone. He's leaning against the porch railing like an obedient little angel, but those big brown eyes are filled with mischief.

And now he's negotiating with me. Like his father.

My grip on the mower tightens. Yeah, let's not go there.

"Of course, Muffin," I chuckle, shaking my head as I keep mowing.

The weekend means an endless list of chores, but luckily, Asher is a clean freak-the exact opposite of me. His room is always spotless, his tiny laundry basket filled with neatly tossed clothes, his toys tucked away after playtime, and not a single food stain in sight. It's almost unnatural.

He gets it from him.

And if that wasn't enough, his face is a miniature replica of his father's too. Every sharp feature, every little expression, a perfect carbon copy of the man I don't even want to think about.

But at least Asher didn't inherit anything from me.

Me-Short-tempered. Full of attitude. The human embodiment of flipping the middle finger at life. Nothing soft, nothing delicate. No good traits worth passing down.

So yeah. Thank God for small mercies.

But what I don't know is where the hell Asher gets that full-on, always-ready-to-run-a-marathon stamina. I'm lazy as sin. His father, A certified introvert unless something pissed him off. Yet, here's our child-a tiny ball of endless energy.

Not that I'm complaining. Asher's wild, unstoppable enthusiasm somehow manages to light up even my dullest days.

"Mommy, when are we going to see Grandma? I miss her."

His voice drops to a soft, longing whisper, making my head snap up. God. His pout could break hearts.

"This evening." The words slip out before I can even think. Disappointing him is not an option.

The second those words register, his entire face lights up, eyes sparkling like I just promised him a lifetime supply of candy.

"You're the best mom in the universe, Mommy!" He sprints toward me, throwing his tiny arms around my leg, clinging like a koala.

I chuckle and scoop him up with ease, cradling him against my chest. His little giggle fills the air when I boop the tip of his nose, and I swear, if happiness had a sound, this would be it.

Then my phone rings.

Balancing Asher in one arm, I pull it out of my pocket. Wren.

I swipe to answer, pressing it against my ear.

"Wre-"

"WHY THE HELL ISN'T YOUR CODE RUNNING?!"

I wince, holding the phone a little away from my ear. Jesus Christ. This man has no volume control.

"Use my system, idiot."

"I am talking about your PC, Ev."

I exhale, already done with his dramatics. "The administrative side took care of my system yesterday. I complained about the lagging issue. They must've done something-probably didn't reinstall the proper interpreters yet. So, maybe ask them first.."

"Oh?" His long, relieved sigh echoes through the phone. "Then that should be fine."

"And..." I pause.

"Yeah?"

"DO NOT YELL AT ME, YOU STUPID AS-"

My jaw snaps shut just in time before a very colorful curse slips out in front of Asher.

Wide brown eyes blink up at me, ears tuned in to every word I utter. Crap.

I lean down and kiss his forehead, as if that will erase whatever he just picked up.

"Calm down, Eva" Wren chuckles. Laughs.

The audacity.

Oh, how I wish I could reach through the phone and slap that smug laugh right off his face.

Wren-my friend, colleague, and unfortunately, my team leader. A decent guy, really. Just... emotional as hell. The kind of person who constantly needs someone by his side, stroking his back, patting his shoulder, whispering, "It's going to be okay." Like a needy cat, but in human form.

He lives with his mother, no siblings. His father passed away in an accident, so he's been carrying the weight of taking care of her all on his own. I give him credit for that-being strong in a way that most people wouldn't understand.

Then there's Freya.

Freya is... well, Freya. The kind of woman who treats dating like a sport. Half the men in our office have already dated-and dumped-by her. If a guy asks her out, she'll say yes almost immediately. And then, Break up with him the next day. Or, if she's feeling particularly impatient, the same evening.

She's not playing games, though. No, she's looking for perfection. A man who is flawless, down to the damn molecular level. What that even means, I have no idea. But clearly, no one has met that impossible standard yet.

"Excuse me, Mr. TL, what the hell are you doing in the office? It's the weekend. Shouldn't you be drowning in laundry and scrubbing your floors like a responsible adult?" My voice drips with sarcasm. I know his routine-weekends mean house chores and taking care of his mom, nothing work-related.

"Monday is our project's deadline. HR already called and gave me an earful about clients, responsibility, and submitting on time like other teams." He sighs so dramatically I can almost see him rolling his eyes through the phone.

"That... sounds depressing." I barely contain my laugh.

"Do not laugh at my agony, you cruel woman."

"My arms are killing me. Call me if you need help-I'm hanging up." Holding a hyperactive four-year-old in one arm while balancing my phone in the other? Torture.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters before hanging up.

I shove my phone back into my pocket, only to be met with the most adorable little voice.

"Mommy, what's Intepeter?" Asher's big brown eyes gleam with curiosity. And thank God he didn't ask about the curse word I almost let slip.

"Interpreter, Muffin," I correct, tapping his nose playfully.

He giggles and squirms in my arms. "What's that for?"

"It's like a translator for computers, Ash. You'll get it when you're older." I set him down on the grass. "Now go to your room and get ready to meet Grandma."

"Okay, Mommy!" He practically sprints into the house, his little legs working faster than my weekend motivation.

I stretch my aching arms, grab the mower, and let out a deep sigh. Back to battling this goddamn grass.

What the hell am I even doing?

I barely get time with Asher anymore, buried under the weight of my job, shackled to a mind-numbing 10-to-6 routine that steals away the hours I should be spending with him. I can't always hire a nanny to pick him up from school, to keep him safe until I'm done pretending I have my shit together. I should be the one doing that. I want to be the one doing that.

I owe Wren and Freya more than just a thank you for stepping in when I can't.

The mower hums beneath me, but it's nothing more than a distant vibration now. My thoughts spiral, twisting into knots I can't untangle. I can't quit my job-I have Asher to take care of, a house to maintain, bills that won't stop coming, expenses that pile up like a goddamn landslide. My head spins, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.

"Tired?"

The voice is familiar-too familiar. It drags me out of my storming thoughts, but I don't turn around. I don't need to. I already know who it is.

"What are you doing here?" I keep working with my lawnmower.

"Can't I come to see my son and my sexy-as-fuck wife?"

I practically can hear the smirk in his voice before I even see it, dripping with that insufferable arrogance that used to make my heart race-and now just makes my blood boil.

"Control your damn mouth. I'm not your wife anymore." I keep my back to him, unwilling to let him drag me into his orbit again.

And then-smack.

A firm slap lands on my ass, making me jolt forward before I whirl around, eyes blazing.

"What the hell, Zayne?" My voice trembles, not with fear, but with the effort it takes to keep my rage from spilling over. My fists curl at my sides, my temper a live wire, ready to explode.

"Your ass is growing bigger every time I visit you. Are you doing something to it? Turn around."

His eyes are shamelessly fixed on me, sharp and assessing, like I'm some exhibit put on display just for him.

What the hell is he doing?

My hands fly to my backside instinctively, trying to shield myself from his audacious gaze.

"Stop it," I grit out, my teeth clenching so hard my jaw aches.

But, of course, he ignores me.

"That thing is too big to cover with your hands," he muses, lips curling into a devilish grin. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he lifts his hands and flexes his fingers in the air, mimicking a grabbing motion. "Want some help?"

"Get. Out." My patience hanging by a thread.

Zayne simply shrugs, unbothered, insufferable as always. "You can't tell me to leave. But Asher can." He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a taunting murmur. "And you're at a loss, Tigress, because my son adores his dad."

Smug. Arrogant. Bastard.

He hasn't changed. Not then, not now. He never will.

How could he? He's the untouchable CEO of Phoenix Prime Inc., a man who walks through the world like he owns it. And in some twisted way, he still thinks he owns me.

My glare deepens, but it only makes him laugh, deep and rich, like this is all just a game to him.

"Are you an idiot? Do not touch me, Zayne."

I'm already done with his bullshit. God, why is he like this?

"Fine, fine," he sighs, as if I'm the one making things difficult. "Where's my favorite firecracker ?"

His arms cross over his chest, his gaze lazily flicking to mine, but my glare stays locked on him.

"Ah, don't worry," he smirks. "You took first place the moment I laid my eyes on you. Ash is second." He shrugs.

I swear, I wish a hurricane would just sweep through and take him off my lawn. Infuriating bastard.

Before I can hurl another insult, Asher bursts out of the house, his tiny feet pounding against the porch.

"Daddy!!! I knew it was you!"

Zayne bends down and scoops him up effortlessly. His arms wrap around Asher tightly, holding him close like he's the most precious thing in the world. And he is.

"I missed you, buddy." His voice drops, softer now, almost tender.

"I missed you too, Daddy!" Asher beams. "When did you come back from the business trip?"

His little voice is laced with innocence, his wide brown eyes looking up at Zayne expectantly.

My chest tightens.

Yes, Asher doesn't know we're divorced. He's too young for things like that. So we both decided we'd tell him when he's ready. For now, Zayne comes to see him once every two or three months, and all Asher knows is that his dad is away on business.

It's not entirely a lie. Zayne is a busy man-an empire resting on his shoulders, a name that holds weight in the corporate world. But when he's here, he never lets Asher down from his arms, never stops making up for lost time. He takes him to places, buys him whatever he wants, showers him with the kind of love that makes me wonder if, despite everything, Zayne really does love Asher more than anything.

Typical spoiling dad energy.

"I saw you on TV last night, Daddy! And I showed you to my friends. They were like, 'awwww!'"

Ash's eyes practically sparkle with excitement.

"Did you, Ash?" Zayne laughs, hugging him tighter.

"Erica said you are sooo handsome," Ash continues, completely oblivious to the smug grin forming on Zayne's face. He keeps rambling about what his little friends from next door said when they were over last night.

"Aha! Looks like your mother has someone to compete with." Zayne smirks and throws a glance my way.

I roll my eyes, refusing to entertain his nonsense, and focus on mowing the grass.

He laughs, then turns his attention back to Asher. "So, where are we going today?" He taps his chin, pretending to think. "What about... a theme park?"

I finally speak up. "I'm taking Ash to see my mom." I don't bother looking at him.

"Well, sorry to break it to you," Zayne's infuriating voice reaches my ears, smug as ever, "but my son is coming with me today."

I stop and glance over my shoulder. His expression is unreadable, but I already know where this is going.

"And for the record..." He pauses, then smirks. "No, you already know-I hate your mom. And today is father-son time, not grandma-grandson time."

"He asked me to take him there," I say through clenched teeth. "And don't talk like that in front of him."

Zayne rolls his eyes before shifting his focus to Asher."Where do you wanna go, Ash? Theme park with Daddy or Grandma's house?"

"Theme park! Theme park!" Asher cheers, his tiny arms flailing in excitement and bouncing in Zayne's arms..

Zayne's triumphant grin nearly makes me throw the damn mower at him.

I sigh. "Do whatever you want."

Muttering under my breath, I turn back to work.

Zayne carries Ash inside while talking to him, his deep voice mixing with Asher's excited chatter.

This was our life two years ago. Laughter, warmth, a home filled with love.

Now? It's all broken pieces.

But Zayne-smug, arrogant bastard-still walks around like everything is the same. Like nothing has changed.

But it has.

And what I don't know-what keeps me up at night-is how I'm supposed to tell Asher that his parents were already separated before he was even old enough to remember.

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