Chapter 3

The next morning, Grant dismissed Maya’s decision as a teenage overreaction. Before I left for work, I scheduled a viewing for a short-term apartment.

“She’ll add me back once she calms down.” He stood in the kitchen pouring himself coffee. “You should have stopped her last night.”

I closed the confirmation email from the graduation portal. “She’s spent years waiting for you to calm down and choose her.”

Grant frowned. “I told you, I was helping someone in an emergency. Once graduation season is over, everything will go back to normal.”

Normal.

For Grant, normal meant I kept saving his seat. Maya kept accepting his explanations. Every broken promise disappeared beneath the next excuse.

I viewed the apartment during my lunch break.

It was on the second floor of a building with no elevator.

The living room barely fit an old sofa, and getting to the library would require an extra bus.

The rent and security deposit would make the next several months tight.

I stood in the narrow kitchen and ran the numbers twice before signing the six-month lease.

When the landlord slid two keys across the counter, my palms were damp.

Signing didn’t bring relief.

It simply turned a thought I had entertained and buried countless times into an address and a move-in date.

Nothing about the decision felt clean or triumphant.

I knew the smaller apartment, longer commute, and tighter budget would be mine to manage.

Still, those costs belonged to a choice I had finally made for myself. I did not need certainty yet.

That evening, I placed the keys on the dining table. Maya looked at them and asked the practical question first.

“How far is it from school?”

“An extra fifteen minutes by bus. Your room will be smaller.”

“I can take less stuff.”

Grant pushed back his chair and stood. “You’re moving out?”

“We’re separating for six months,” I said. “We move Saturday.”

He picked up the keys as if he could measure how long the punishment would last by their weight. “You’re taking our daughter out of her home because of one school event?”

“That event showed me what I’ve been doing. Every time you choose someone else, I make sure you never have to live with the consequences.”

“So this is supposed to make me prove myself?”

“I’m not asking you to prove anything.” I took the keys from his hand. “I’m done letting Maya live as your backup plan.”

Grant looked at her, clearly waiting for her to reject my decision.

Instead, Maya went to her room, returned with a cardboard box, and began packing books and clothes.

His phone lit up on the table.

Celeste had sent him the photograph from Senior Recognition Night.

Grant stood between her and Owen, his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The message preview read: Thank you for being our rock.

A second notification appeared beneath it. The subject line said: SENIOR YEARBOOK TRIBUTE—FINAL PROOF.

The deadline was five o’clock the next afternoon.

Grant reached for the phone and covered the screen, but I had already seen it.

“You agreed to review Owen’s family tribute?”

He didn’t answer.

I looked down at the email preview. The first line of the proof contained Grant’s name.