Chapter 2

Elowen

Three weeks earlier, Adrian had missed our final home inspection because Lila claimed she smelled smoke in her building.

Firefighters found burnt toast. Our caseworker found another empty chair in my living room.

"One more unexcused absence, Elowen, and the joint application fails," she had warned me, her tone laced with pity.

When Adrian finally came home, he blamed the agency. "Lila survived a deadly fire. What was I supposed to do, abandon her?"

"You were supposed to be *here*."

Grace Hart had fostered Adrian since he was twelve. Seven years later, she died saving her biological daughter, Lila, from an apartment fire. At the funeral, Adrian swore Lila would never face an emergency alone.

Lila turned that childhood promise into a steel leash. And Adrian enjoyed playing the hero far too much to ever cut it.

The next day, my lawyer prepared two devastating documents: Adrian's consent for me to adopt Junie as a single mother, and his official acknowledgment of my divorce petition.

"The headings must remain clearly visible," the lawyer warned me. "Legally, he gets the chance to read them."

That night, I spread every page across our kitchen table. My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Adrian rushed through the front door, still wearing his headset. Lila was crying in his ear about a scheduled fire alarm test in her building.

"The agency needs your signatures immediately," I said, my voice eerily calm.

He reached for the pen.

I slammed my hand over the first page. "Read it, Adrian."

"Elowen, please, not now."

"Do you know what you're signing?"

He looked at my face. His gaze caught on the dark circles under my eyes and the sheer coldness in my stare. I saw the hesitation in his posture--a brief, agonizing moment where he could have stopped, read the bold words **PETITION FOR DIVORCE**, and fought for me.

I *wanted* him to fight for me.

"It's adoption paperwork," he sighed, tapping the pen impatiently. "You handle these things better than I do."

He flipped the tabs and signed every single page, all while whispering into his headset, promising Lila he was on his way.

"Anything that gets our girl adopted," he muttered, scribbling his name on the final page.

He never even glanced at the bold headings.

"Adrian."

He grabbed his car keys. He kissed my forehead--a gentle, loving touch that made me want to vomit. "Thank you for taking care of everything, baby. I'll make this up to you."

The door shut behind him.

I collapsed against the kitchen counter and cried until I was empty. Then, I was finally angry enough to sign my own name.

Over the next two weeks, I quietly dismantled our life.

Aunt Mae sneaked Junie's winter clothes out first, then her medical records. I moved all my publishing deadlines online.

Two nights before the court hearing, three large boxes sat in our hallway. I had written *THEATER DONATIONS* across the lids in thick black marker.

Beneath the brown tape, hidden from view, were the words: *JUNIE ELLIS--DO NOT OPEN.*

Adrian came home late and nearly tripped over them.

My breath hitched.

He nudged the heaviest box with his expensive leather shoe. "Finally clearing out the junk in the guest room?"

"Something like that."

He didn't lift the lid. He didn't notice Junie hiding on the staircase in her pajamas, watching him with fearful eyes.

Instead, he smiled tiredly. "Thank you for handling all the agency stress. I know I've been useless lately."

For one pathetic, breathless second, the exhaustion in his voice weakened my resolve.

"Then stay," I whispered. "Just stay tonight."

His phone buzzed.

According to Adrian, Lila needed a new lock installed because the maintenance man had looked at her funny.

Adrian immediately reached for his toolbox. "After the hearing on Thursday, things will calm down. We'll finally be a real family. I promise."

He walked out again.

Junie crept down the stairs, her red backpack already strapped to her chest.

"Did he see my name on the box?" she whispered.

"No, sweetheart."

"Did he see me?"

I swallowed the lump of glass in my throat. I couldn't lie to her anymore.

"Not the way he should have."

I looked down at the signed legal packet on the counter.

From the way he had signed without reading, I knew Adrian believed those papers were making us a family of three.

That signature--one he had barely glanced at--had given me the legal right to save a family of two.