Royal kicked the box that slid a little further. He frowned, went to pick it up, and looked around him. All he could see was Mr. Doyle lawnmowing and Ms. Kiple's doing her yoga poses on her lawn.

"Mom, there was this in front of the door," the boy said as he reentered the house.

His sisters came to gather around him.

"What is it?" Kenya asked.

"It looks like a cake box," Kenya, the expert, said.

Ten seconds were enough for the whole house to smell vanilla and pecan nuts.

Thandie took the box from Royal's hands. A small note detached itself and fell to the ground.

Meia grabbed the word only to hear Thandie's hasty, "Give me that."

Her daughter executed the order. Thandie grabbed the note and walked to the kitchen. Her kids followed. She placed the box on the table and read the note.

I hope your children enjoy them. Have a nice day, Callum.

Thandie only had the time to look up and say, "Who said you could open it," that Royal had opened the box. Its content left all three of her children with dropping and drooling jaws.

"Wow," gasped Meia at what she considered a feast of delights.

All her kids looked at Thandie with dewy eyes. She had refused to go to the bakery all week. Meia had cried more than once while trailing her feet behind Thandie as she strode to take them to school. Not only did she ban the pastries, but she also walked on the other side of the street. Her kids wondered what nonsense they had said or done to deserve such a punishment. Each kept accusing the other of something, and none dared ask their mother. There, they had a whole box of their favorite pastries. The person who left their box knew their habits.

Did callum really retain all of her children's preferences?

It seemed like it.

"Mom, can we?" The nuance in Royal's voice was subtle, but Thandie heard his plea.

"Yes, go on."

The smiles on her children's faces said it all. Thandie watched them pick and eat their favorite cakes while wondering why Callum had done it. She had been nothing but cold and mean to him. She ignored him, yet the man made her children smile, and Thandie couldn't act as though the gesture didn't prick her in the right spot.

There were many ways to her heart, but there was one direct route where one needn't say open sesame.

Thandie took her phone out and wrote a simple thank you for the pastries.

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing for Callum, who beamed at his screen. Thandie didn't say she wished to stop talking to him, which was a triumph.

Thandie's phone buzzed. Seeing the red light, she imagined Callum reacting to her message. To her surprise, it was the handsome Cole and his tetanizing message.

Have we met before?

The text sent shock waves all over Thandie's body.

Where and how could they have met?

I don't think so Thandie replied.

Your face looks familiar. I'm almost sure we've met.

Thandie panicked before remembering most matches were from her area. Perhaps they crossed each other at Tescos or at a bus stop. She worked in a post office, and though she probably looked like any black woman for a non-black person, a black man could presumably pin her face. Again, she fell into the cross-race bias that had her thinking that all POC looked the same to most people.

I really doubt we've met. Thandie wrote.

Do your children attend Kings Primary School?

Thandie didn't know what to reply. Had Cole stalked her?

How could he know the name of her children's school? The only way to find out was to ask.

How do you know that? She questioned.

I'm a P.E. teacher there.

Thandie felt better; things suddenly made more sense. She was already prepared to alert the police if Cole's answer wasn't satisfactory. London was the city of unsolved mysteries. Crazy people in disguise lurked everywhere. Even an app like Oppo was a perfect shelter for predators of all sorts. Thandie preferred to be cautious.

I see.

I bet my questions stressed you, Cole wrote back.

Thandie didn't have time to answer. She had to be at the dry cleaners at ten. She would finish there at four and then come home to braid a client who wanted knee-length knotless. Thandie didn't see how one could live with braids that long. It was none of her business. What mattered was the price of the service. Thandie was charging five hundred and fifty pounds for the braids she would work on through her Sunday. Instead of seeing what she could buy herself with the money, she already thought of the bills the amount would pay.

"Royal, warm the pizzas up for lunch. I'll be back at 4h3."

It was the type of Saturday Royal hated, one where he played the mom, changed diapers, and scolded his sibling instead of just being a kid. Thandie still didn't talk to Thiane. Asking her to stay with her kids didn't make sense in the given situation.

Speaking of the prodigal sister, Thandie's phone buzzed with an incoming message: Still mad?

Thandie weighed the question as she walked to the bus stop.

To be fair, she wasn't. Oppo wasn't such a disaster. On the contrary, Thandie had the impression of having a social life. Chatting online had the advantage of being free and appearance-free. One didn't need to prep as long as no one asked for a video call. The photos were enough to let everyone's imagination run wild.

Thandie had no reasonable reason to be angry except for the privacy issue. Her sister had no right to access her phone the way she did.

What do you want? Thandie replied.

Aren't you working today? Thiane wrote.

Yes.

Don't you need a babysitter?

Damnit, thought Thandie. Of course, she preferred that her kids be with Thiane rather than alone. Not only would they eat better, but she wouldn't have to stress about their security or have someone informing social services about her.

Thiane could have added I say this; I say nothing to the sentence that meant everything to Thandie.

You know I need one, Thandie wrote with a flat-lipped emoji as if to say don't make me sweat for this.

I'll be there in an hour, Thiane replied with a grinning emoji Thandie wished to slap off the screen.

It was as easy as that. They were sisters; there was no point bringing out the grievance file when both knew their errors. Also, it wasn't like they couldn't clarify things when they met.

Thandie got a photo of her kids with Thiane an hour later. She could work serenely.

Or could she?

As I said, I've seen you around with your kids and husband.

Cole said a taboo word that had Thandie cussing while she popped a duvet in the dryer.

It made me wonder why the good ones are always taken.

Thandie rolled her eyes. After the pedophobic [please do not mistake with pedophile], the app-friend, in came the sweet talker.

There had to be one for the whole online dating parade to make sense.

Thandie knew the latter well; younger, she enjoyed playing their game. There, she read the red flag.

I'm not into dating online, Thandie replied before pressing a few garments.

Neither am I. I signed up a week ago. My brother pushed me to do it. He's engaged to a girl he met here a year ago. It makes one want the same.

Thandie waited to inspect the garments, package and place them on the garment conveyer before replying; you're looking to get married? She then went to the desk to take a new laundry drop.

People really brought anything to the cleaners. She was shocked to see the number of women who got the most basic things dry cleaned. What a waste of money, Thandie thought when she saw white tees or jeans. She was part of the generation who was taught that women should be great housekeepers. Cooking and cleaning, though brought up in England, Thandie had a very traditional image of how a good wife should be, but Moses proved that it wasn't enough. At least it wasn't what kept a man.

She forgot that nothing stood in the way of someone who wished to be entertained elsewhere. One could be at the top of their game, top tier in beauty and intelligence, and still get played like a rookie.

Yes, I'm in that state of mind. Thandie saw when she looked at his reply half an hour later.

Thandie wished to write been there, done that, and I won't do it again.

Moses broke the sacred image she had about marriage. Marriage was something one did once. Thandie didn't see herself living the experience again.

No, she wanted something else.

The year was almost over, and Moses seemed like a distant yet close dream. She had loved him too much. What she needed was to love and care less. Thandie didn't want to invest in a relationship. Though she didn't wish to admit it, she desired attention. Thus, she decided to play a little: Oh, yeah, and you set your eyes on an older woman with not one but four children?

I'm not the type of person to stop that. I work with children, remember, and I'm an uncle of eight. What I see is a beautiful woman. I want to see if we click.

Cole was efficient. His counter only displayed four matches and one date. He was really at the beginning of the adventure.

I'm older than you, you know, Thandie wrote.

Yes, and? Don't tell me I'm going to be the one to teach you that age ain't nothing but a number.

Thandie nodded; Cole was the type of guy at the apogee of his beauty who believed he could rule the world with his words. The mother of four found it challenging to accept a man like him could be single.

I'm curious, how can a good-looking guy like yourself be on an online dating app?

I can return the question to you. 

Thandie slid her head back and tilted her head to the side at Cole's reply that arrived a minute after.

No, seriously, I don't know. I must not be all that. Women find me boring once they know me. I'm an ordinary bloke. 

Many expect me to be at events taking selfies rather than doing tree-top adventure courses, going to Chessington World of Adventures with the nephews and nieces, or attending a pretend tea party, Cole wrote.

Thandie had to bite her lips to prevent herself from smiling.

Cole 1-0 Thandie.