April sat by her window, legs tucked beneath her as the late evening breeze stirred the curtains. Her phone lay face-up beside her, Tiffany’s last message glowing softly:
“You’ll be fine either way. And if they separate and any of them remarry, I hope you get a chill step-parent like Landon.”
That name again.
It was the third time Tiffany had brought him up casually — first with that awkward smile when she mentioned him picking her up, then again when she said he was “cool,” and now this. A “chill step-parent.”
April stared at the message like it had more to say. Like if she tilted her head the right way, the truth would slip through the screen.
She reached for the small notebook under her pillow, the one she kept hidden from her parents. The pages were half-full — names, dates, fragm
