Tired. Wasted. Drained. Safiya's mind scrolled through all the ways she could describe her weariness as she stood in front of the chalkboard wall now almost covered with the white lines of curves of her aesthetically pleasing, uniformed handwriting that had most wondering if her penmanship was the one that was used to create fonts. She'd logged through a bevy of previous articles, some online and even those on print before it was cut to save cost. The board was broken up into four parts: journalist, types of most popular articles, ideas for new articles, and creative ways to expand readership.

Her hand stalled in the last box. A yawn ripped out of her mouth only to be shielded by her chalk free hand and drowned out by the music spilling from the pastel wireless speaker her parents bought her as a Christmas present—it was old by definitions of technological advances but it got the job done. She received it two years ago, planned on upgrading to a Beats Pill or another update, higher functioning model but then she got pregnant and the way she spent her money changed.

Name brand purses, glittery jewelry and keeping the latest fashions in her closet use to be all she desired. Now, she had to spend her money more wisely since someone else depended on her coin. The speaker lowered a beat every once and a while and she thought about it, though. Splurging a couple of hundreds on new tech then Ameera would giggle or smash a button on that calamitous toy that sung the alphabet song—a device she despised but tolerated for her daughter's development and she resolved to put up with it a little bit longer...until she got more money.

"What time is it?" She asked herself before peering up at the wall clock over Ameera's bed, which she was back in finally.

The 'finally' was an exhausted exhale as she realized it was passed six in the evening. She would've been free of this office if Ameera hadn't woke up and begged for her attention. The attention that she freely gave. Once the baby's empty belly was filled fun had to be had. Songs were sung and she had to dance to Baby Shark one too many times feeling a groan grow deep in her chest but the giggles of her little one gave her the might to soldier through it four times in the span of minutes. A diaper change, a couple of episodes of Clifford the Big Red Dog cuddle time at her desk; she searched the internet with Ameera resting on her chest fighting sleep all bought them to where they were—Ameera sleeping and she just about finished.

"One more box, then we can go home," Safiya uttered with relief and glee knowing tomorrow she'd get to stay home, it wouldn't be a completely lazy day—she had laundry to take care of but it'd be less taxing than today.

The song changed, the easy ballad gave way to a lively, infectious song. She glanced over her shoulder to see if the hip hop song stirred the little girl. It hadn't but something else hampered Safiya from turning back to the board.

"Can I help you?" She asked the suit adorned gray-haired, whisker-faced man darkening her doorway.

"Yes," His voice ruff from a two pack a day habit and his skin blotchy from another vice he couldn't quite quit—bourbon. "I went to your house looking for you..." He rubbed his hand over his tie as he entered further in the office. "...and couldn't get in the gate."

Their townhouse was a gated community of other townhouses and she liked it that way. It felt a little safer and during Alyssa trial, it kept the press and nosey individuals at bay.

"Security is one of its perks."

He chuckled, "Another trust fund kid. No wonder."

"I don't have one of those." She soothed her finger down the long, rod of chalk the substance dimming her caramel skin. "I gotta work."

"Huh," He eyed her peculiarly and she knew what had stunned him.

How could a college student afford a place than that? She didn't feel the need to tell him that the house was a kind gesture from a politician that valued hard work and good grades. It wasn't his business.

"What do you want?" She asked getting him back on track and closer to getting out of her space so she could get back to work.

"Yes." He blinked his thoughts back to the present. "I'm Harland Reynolds." He held out his hand but she displayed hers riddled with chalk and he drew it back with a twist of his mouth. "Allergies."

"Understand. I lot of people have that. Tree pollen is my hindrance. Spring is hell." She disclosed and they both chuckled over a mutual aversion to nature's reproduction process. "But besides hay fever, what else do we need to talk about because...." She gestured to him. "You don't seem like a reporter of mine."

"No." He slipped his hand in a pocket in the leather messenger bag hanging on his shoulder and pulled out a big, tan envelope. "My client would like for you to look these over and sign them."

"Your clients?" Safiya's eyes fell on the envelope, confusion drawing her eyebrows together etching faint bunching of the skin around it. She received the envelope and abruptly opened the flap with nervous hands. "Did Jack really—" Her words halted once her eyes ran across the bold printed words at the top of the official document. She blinked several times at the words wishing it was a slander claim from her former editor. "A custody agreement." She fanned through the stack of papers not reading a word. "For what?"

Harland glanced over his shoulder at the crib. "For that beautiful little creature right there."

"Don't call my child a creature." She snapped shifting all her anger on him.

"I didn't mean any offense." He backtracked. "I just meant." He shook his head with a hand to his chest. "The agreement pertains to an Ameera Mendoza and assume she's her since you're Safiya Mendoza."

Safiya glared at him not saying a word.

He swallowed then continued. "I don't mean to upset you. It's just that your child isn't just any child. Her father is a very wealthy man and his family needs to make sure things are clear, concrete, and easy. Sign the papers and get them back to me by the end of September." He nodded like his word was all it needed and she'd follow his instruction.

"This is Carter's doing?"

He smiled kindly, "Sign the papers and I'll see you soon." He peeked over at Ameera one last time and slipped out the room.

She hadn't yet read the papers but dread overflowed her body. Her stomach turned with a sickness fueled by fear. The papers shook in her hand.

"Bastard," She fumed then hurled the rod of chalk. It hit the wall and snapped in half, sprinkles of the rock raining in the air as the pieces fell to the ground.

Why do you think a custody agreement has been drawn up?

How will this affect her relationship with Carter and his relationship with Ameera?

Is a custody agreement a good thing? Should she sign it?