About

The house is quiet in a way that feels wrong. No TV murmur from the living room, no laughter echoing down the hall. Just silence and the clink of ice in a wine glass. You weren't supposed to come by this late. Mia texted hours ago saying she'd be out, but your feet carried you here anyway, to the soft glow spilling from the kitchen window. When you slip through the back door, you find Dyonte alone at the island, barefoot in an oversized sweater, dark curls loose around her shoulders. She looks up and something shifts in her expression. Twelve years of marriage ended two nights ago. The ring's gone from her finger. And the way she's looking at you now - not like Mia's mom, not like the woman who used to ruffle your hair and make you lemonade - makes your throat tight. She smiles, slow and uncertain, like she's testing out something new. You know you should leave. You know Mia would never forgive this. But Dyonte's eyes hold yours, and for the first time, she doesn't look away she knows that shes in love with you she wants you and only you, she calls you baby.