Chapter 4

When my husband’s name appeared in another boy’s yearbook family tribute, he looked at me and said I was making too much of something insignificant.

“Owen only asked me to check the wording.” Grant locked his phone. “One line in a yearbook doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then why is your name in it?”

“Because I’ve coached him, and I’ve helped Celeste.” His patience was wearing thin. “Nora, you’ve decided that every decent thing I do is some kind of betrayal.”

Maya came into the room carrying a cardboard box.

She picked up her family-floor pass confirmation from beside the printer.

“Does this piece of paper mean nothing too?” she asked.

Grant looked at the single name printed on it—mine. “I know you’re angry.”

“I didn’t remove you to punish anyone.” Maya placed the family-floor pass confirmation on the dining table. “I just want to know who I’ll see when I look up on graduation day. Mom says she’ll be there, so she’ll be there.”

She spoke without raising her voice or asking him to agree.

She had already made the decision.

The page was not a threat; it was her plan for getting through graduation without another empty seat.

The doorbell rang before Grant could answer.

Celeste stood outside holding a folder. “I’m sorry to come by this late. The yearbook goes to print tomorrow, and I need Grant to approve the final proof.”

She had purchased a full senior tribute page for Owen, the kind parents usually filled with childhood photographs and messages from family.

She walked to the dining table and spread out the page.

Owen’s graduation portrait filled the top half.

Beneath a paragraph thanking the people who had supported him, the final line appeared in bold:

Family: Celeste Mercer and Grant Hale.

Grant stared at it. “Celeste, this isn’t the version you sent me.”

“I only added the family credit.” Her fingers tightened around the edge of the folder. “Owen’s father didn’t even call. You’re the one who helped him prepare for tournaments and apply to colleges. You’re the one who actually showed up this year.”

“I’m his teacher.”

The words sounded smaller beside the bold family credit.

“What you’ve done for him goes far beyond teaching.” Celeste turned toward me. “It’s a yearbook caption. It doesn’t take anyone else’s place.”

Maya let out a quiet laugh.

She slid her own confirmation page beside Owen’s yearbook proof.

The two documents lay next to each other on the table.

Grant’s name appeared beneath another child’s definition of family, while his own daughter had removed him from hers.

For the first time, he was looking at the same picture Maya and I had been forced to see.

I took the keys to the short-term apartment from my pocket and placed them between the two pages. The metal clicked against the wood.

“I start moving tomorrow.”

Grant looked up at me. “Nora, don’t make this final. We can talk about it.”

“For sixteen years, I have explained your choices, held your seat, and turned every decision into a misunderstanding.” I lifted my hand from the keys. “This time, I’m not taking part.”

Celeste held out a pen. Maya stood on the other side of the table, waiting for his answer.

Grant held Owen’s family tribute in one hand and the proof that his own daughter had removed him in the other.

The tip of the pen hovered directly above his name.