Chapter 4

The clock had struck midnight by the time I finally made it home. To my surprise, the lights were still on, casting a warm glow through the windows. My parents had waited up for me. The moment I stepped inside, my breath caught—the dining table was set with an elaborate spread, and in the center sat a gorgeous princess cake, its delicate frosting shimmering under the soft light.

"I told you not to wait!" I protested, my voice cracking.

My father just grinned, taking my suitcase and nudging me toward the stairs. "And miss our little princess’s birthday? Never."

Soon, the house echoed with laughter and off-key renditions of Happy Birthday. Later, wrapped in the handmade quilt my mother had stitched for me years ago, I fell into the deepest, most contented sleep.

At exactly 8:03 AM, my phone buzzed violently against the nightstand, jolting me awake. I fumbled for it, blinking blearily until the screen came into focus.

Missed Calls: 7

All from Ethan Caldwell.

I swiped to Instagram. Amid the flood of notifications, one message stood out:

[Playing runaway with me, Sophia? Tell me—if you skip one day of chaos, do you just wither away?]

Right. I hadn’t officially broken up with him yet.

I hit call.

It rang five times before he answered, his voice rough with sleep—and irritation. "Sophia. You’re nearly thirty. When are you going to stop acting like a child? Running away is for teenagers."

I exhaled slowly, keeping my tone steady. "I didn’t run away. I went home—my home."

A beat of silence. Then, sharper: "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means I’m done." My fingers tightened around the phone. "With you. With us. We’re over, Ethan."

A dry, disbelieving laugh crackled through the speaker. "You expect me to buy that?"

"You will." I hung up before he could reply.

When I opened my bedroom door, I found my parents pressed against the wall, frozen mid-whisper. They straightened instantly, guilt written all over their faces.

I crossed my arms. "Really?"

My mother coughed. "We were just—"

"—coming to ask if you wanted breakfast!" my father cut in, then shot her a look. "You were the one eavesdropping!"

I wedged myself between them, looping an arm around each of their necks and steering them downstairs. "Fine, fine. Since you’re so curious—Ethan and I broke up. For good. I don’t love him anymore."

My father squinted at me. "Really?"

"Really."

He whooped, clapping his hands. "Perfect! I’ll call Aunt Margaret tomorrow. She’s got a list of eligible bachelors longer than—"

I groaned, releasing him and turning back toward the stairs. "Never mind. I’m going back to bed."

My mother hooked an arm around my waist and kicked my dad’s shin lightly. "Ignore him. You don’t need a man. Stay here forever if you want. I’ll feed you and keep you happy."

A lump rose in my throat. I pulled her into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Love you, Mom."

And for the first time in years, I meant every word.