Years passed. Yvonne never mentioned divorce. I believed in forever. I was wrong. The years of effort, wasted. Her apathy made me a fool.

A bitter laugh escaped me. I headed for the study, divorce papers my goal. A sharp pain exploded in my head. I crumpled, unconscious.

I awoke on the floor, my arm throbbing. Three hours. The bleak thought struck: would anyone even notice? Painkillers dulled the ache.

Voices. Jared and Xavier.

"Jared, it's settled! Kites this weekend!"

"Pinky promise – puppy if you break it!" Jared chuckled.

"Depends on Dad," Xavier replied smoothly.

"If he says no, I'll say I'm visiting Grandpa with Mom – like that anniversary trick!"

My eyes widened. Xavier, usually distant, had been unusually affectionate that morning. "Daddy, brisket and ribs!" he'd chirped, tugging my hand. I'd been thrilled.

"Since Xavier wants your cooking, let's celebrate at home," Yvonne added. "I crave your cooking too. I'll take the kids for a cake."

It was unlike her. Overwhelmed, I agreed. "Just a cake," I said.

The table overflowed with food. I cut my finger, rinsed it, bandaged it, and kept cooking. I couldn't wait for them.

It was all a lie. A meticulously crafted plan to keep me home.

Staring at my bandaged finger, I chuckled. An outsider. Always. Their elaborate charade.

"Xavier, you're clever," Jared praised. "You fight for what you want."