Chapter 5

"I wouldn't dare intrude on your happy little family of three."

A cold laugh slipped out of me.

Tristan went quiet for a moment, then his voice shot up, furious.

"What's that supposed to mean? Carina grew up without a father. What's wrong with me spending her birthday with her?"

"Hester, do you have any empathy at all? Didn't I text you and explain?"

"You're the one who never answered a single message. Where did you run off to with Howie? You didn't even come home! Do you know how worried I've been about you two?"

"Really?" My voice stayed even. "Worried about us? Three days, and this is the first call you've made."

"Tristan, let's get divorced."

The line on his end went dead silent, nothing left but the faint hum of static.

I didn't say another word. I just hung up.

The phone went off at once, buzzing like mad.

I declined every call.

The messages came right after, one stacking on top of the next—

【What divorce agreement? What is that supposed to mean?】

【Hester, spell it out for me!】

【Pick up the phone!】

I looked at the screen full of messages and calmly typed back one line: 【The divorce agreement. Sign it, quickly.】

When Tristan saw that line, his heart gave a violent lurch.

The truth was, over those three days Tristan had kept sending check-in videos.

In the first video, he said he'd gotten into a car accident while picking out Howie's birthday present, and needed two stitches.

In the second, the bandage still on his head, he said he'd stood in line three hours for a limited-edition action figure for Howie, until his legs went numb.

In the third, the bandage gone and only a faint red mark on his forehead, he said he'd found a blue seashell on the beach and wanted to bring it back to make me a necklace.

Every one of them was unbearably tender.

But I'd had a friend check the metadata on those videos, and they were all AI-generated.

His face, his voice, that convincing wound—all of it churned out by a synthesis model.

Generate with one tap, send with another.

Meanwhile, over on Leah's feed, there was a different set of photos from that same beach.

No bandage on Tristan's forehead. Not a scratch on him.

He was trying to play me for a fool again, plain as day.

Tristan stood at the front door, gripping his phone, his mind a blank.

It took him a long moment to come back to himself, muttering under his breath.

"There's no way Hester would ever go through with a divorce. She's just mad I didn't spend these few days with Howie. She's throwing a fit."

He turned and walked straight back out, driving to the mall nearby.

He picked out the biggest remote-control car they had, then added a Lego set Howie had been going on about for half a year.

At the register he figured he'd get home, plunk the presents down in front of Howie, apologize to Hester, and the whole thing would blow over.

She always went soft on him.

……

I set down my phone, took Howie's hand, and walked into an aquarium in another city.

The rippling light played across his little face, bright then dim.

He tipped his head back, mouth round, eyes not blinking once.

"Mom, it's so big in here," he whispered, as if afraid he'd startle the fish drifting past.

"Is it bigger than the aquarium Daddy talked about?"

He couldn't look away.

Before, every time we passed the aquarium billboard, he'd stop and stare at it for a long time.

There was a blue whale and a yellow starfish painted on it, and he'd point and say, Daddy, will you take me next time?

Tristan always said yes. Next time.

Then he took Carina instead.

"Thank you, Mom." He turned his head, eyes rimmed red, but the corners of his mouth curved up.

I crouched down and brushed his hair, mussed by the sea breeze, off to one side.

"You don't have to thank me. From now on Mom is going to love you twice as much, and make up for everything I owe you."

He buried his face in the crook of my shoulder, his small arms locked tight around my neck.

I held him close, and my tears slid silently down into my collar.

Across town, Tristan came home carrying the remote-control car and the Lego box.

"Honey! Howie! Look what I bought—"

No answer.

He pushed the door open. No lights on inside.

He walked into Howie's room. The toy chest had been cleared out, and only a desk lamp was left on the desk.

"No, this isn't happening. It's not." He set the remote-control car down on the bare bed frame, his voice unsteady. "They just went out to clear their heads. They'll come back once they've cooled off."

He turned around, and finally he saw the dining table.

On that table he'd ignored since walking in, a kraft-paper envelope sat quietly.

Tristan's heart shot up into his throat, and his legs kept going weak under him.

He edged over to it one shuffling step at a time, fingers trembling as he reached out, tearing at the seal several times before it finally ripped open.