Abby.

I wake up to a stormy morning, the kind where the clouds seem to press down, matching the heaviness in my chest. It's late August, and the September breeze seems to be settling in.

I pick up my phone, eyes blurry with sleep. There's a new message on my notifications.

I unlock the phone to see it's from Morgan.

My heart races as I read it.

Morgan: [a lawsuit if you don't let me see the kids.]

Panic bubbles up inside me. This text is more threatening than the ones from a few days ago. He’s been more erratic and unpredictable over the days. I try to ignore him, but this? This is something I can't ignore.

Me: [Why are you doing this?]

The idea of him taking legal action sends me reeling.

I jolt out of bed, my mind racing and desperate to talk to someone about this. I've been keeping it inside for a while; it will just kill me.

When I get downstairs, Beth is already out of the house with a "Have a nice day" sticky note on the fridge.

I retreat to my room, calling Milton to ask for a day off. I don't think I can put up with another faux smile considering the knot in my stomach.

Milton doesn't make it hard; he wishes me a quick recovery, and I toss the phone away.

The thought of leaving my children alone while Morgan's threats get intense is unbearable. I need to be there for them, to keep them safe from whatever his next move might be. The morning stretches on in a blur of packing snacks, arranging and rearranging things around the kitchen, and the twins are genuinely excited to have me home for the day. Despite the giggles and the smiles from them, I can't seem to calm my mind.

And to think someone might want to take them away from me.

By the afternoon, I find myself in Simone’s garden. The fresh air does little to ease my nerves, but it’s a better alternative to the suffocating walls of the house.

Simone had her hands digging into the earth as if trying to bury her own problems and enjoying it at the same time. The twins run around, and I don't have the energy to stop them from mudding their clothes.

"We have to talk," Simone says when she finally looks up at me. Her brown eyes look gorgeous in this cloudy weather; I didn't realize I missed them this much until now.

I haven't seen Simone in like a day or two, but I heard her mom left yesterday. Guess she feels free now.

The kids are playing on Simone's carpet while I settle on the couch. Simone heads to the kitchen and returns with two mugs of wine.

I take a sip from my mug, not able to push down the nostalgic feeling.

Wine, tequila, beer, etc., in the mugs is still our thing. I’ve missed this—I missed the simplicity of being able to sit and talk with Simone without worrying about Kenya, her mom, or Zack.

Simone looks at me, her eyes empty. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“My kid’s dad—Morgan—he might sue me if I keep the kids away from him.” I swallow hard, past my throat dry. Then take a sip to soothe my nerves.

Simone’s expression shifts instantly from boredom or whatever that was to shock. Her eyes widen, and her mouth falls slightly open. The shock is a mix of disbelief and concern. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t understand,” Simone says, her voice trembling slightly. “Is he here? How did you… Did he…?”

I shake my head, struggling to form words. “I don’t know how he got my number,” I say, my voice breaking. “But he’s been texting—threatening me.”

Simone’s gaze drops to the phone I offer, showing the thread of messages from Morgan. She takes the phone, her brows furrowing as she reads through the texts. She hands it back, deep lines on her forehead.

“This is serious, Abby. What are you going to do?”

I feel a lump in my throat. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect him to show up again, especially not like this. It’s been years.” I sigh, unable to believe it myself. “We were in med school together. We had a thing for a while, but when I got pregnant, he just vanished... and now he’s back, threatening to take my kids away.”

Simone’s eyes soften. It should be some comfort, but I only feel worse.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I can’t imagine how hard it must be.”

Tears well up in my eyes, and I feel my chest tightening. “I can’t lose them, Simone. I don’t know what I’d do if he took them from me.” I let out a heavy breath, my hand fanning my face. “Fuck, I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Simone’s face tightens, and she stands up, guiding me gently toward the dining room. “Come on, let’s get you away from the kids for a minute. They don’t need to see you like this.”

I follow her, ashamed that I'm losing my grip in front of Simone. I never wanted her to see this pathetic, vulnerable side of me. I just wanted her to see the hot Abby, but I can't help myself.

“Just breathe,” Simone says softly, rubbing my back. “It’s going to be okay.”

I try to steady my breathing, wiping at the tears that have spilled over my cheeks. Simone’s hand on my back is a comfort, even if I feel unworthy of it. After a few moments, I regain my composure.

Simone offers a small smile. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to have your kids taken away from you,” she says softly. “I might never know because I was diagnosed with some infertility disease and I can’t conceive.”

My heart sinks as I absorb Simone’s words. The pieces start to fall into place—Simone’s comments about family, the way she interacts with the twins, how she tensed when her mom made that comment at dinner a few days ago. The realization hits me hard.

Oh, God.

Unable to find the right words, I reach out and take Simone’s hand in mine. “I’m so sorry, Simone,” I whisper. “I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

Simone shakes her head, squeezing my hand gently. “It's not your fault. We all have our struggles.”

I nod, but I still feel there's more I can do or say.

“Thank you,” I say. “I just... I need to protect my kids.”

Simone gives me a reassuring nod. “You will. You will figure this out. You're the bravest and strongest person I know.”

I scoff. "No, you're stronger."

Simone doesn't fight me on this; I think she knows how damn strong she is because how does she manage a smile every day with all of this going on in her life?

We sit in silence for a while before I recall that she wanted to say something.

"You wanted to talk?"

Simone lets out a sound between a chuckle and a scoff. "It's not important. Some other time, maybe."

I nod, clasping her hand tightly. The world might be falling apart, but being right here with Simone feels like everything is going to be okay.

+++

Oh well.

I mean...what's sexier than a person who can get you through a rough patch?