Monday came too quickly.
Mia stood in front of the mirror, brushing the last curl into place, eyes dull and red-rimmed despite the effort she made to look composed. She chose a cheerful yellow cardigan over a soft white blouse, hoping it would disguise the weight pressing down on her chest. The smile she practised in the mirror didn't quite reach her eyes, but it would have to do.
The kids didn't deserve her sadness. They never had.
She heard Rosa humming downstairs, the familiar clinking of pans and the soft rhythm of breakfast being prepared. Normally, Mia would have gone down early just to sit and chat. Rosa would tease her about her outfits or make her favourite tea without asking. But not today.
Not when one look from Rosa would unravel everything.
So she slipped quietly out the front door, keys clutched in hand, avoiding both the kitchen and any chance of seeing Damian. She hadn't laid eyes on him since the gala, and she intended to keep it that way. She wasn't sure what would break her more if he looked at her with indifference or if he didn't look at all.
By the time she pulled into the school parking lot, the sun was rising warm across the playground, the building already alive with tiny footsteps and bubbling voices. Normally, the sound brought her peace.
Today, it only reminded her of what she may never have.
Inside the classroom, she set out name cards and colouring pages with her usual care, but her movements were slower. She kept blinking too often, as if forcing back tears that hadn't finished falling.
"Okay," came Janelle's voice from behind her. "What happened?"
Mia turned, startled. "What?"
"You're moving like a sad Disney princess," Janelle said, arching a brow and folding her arms across her brightly patterned blazer. "Don't even bother lying to me. Something is wrong. Spill."
Mia hesitated. "It's nothing, really. I'm just tired."
"Try again," Janelle said, stepping closer. "Your eyes are puffy, your smile's broken, and you're wearing concealer which you only do when you're really trying to fake it. Talk to me, Mia."
Mia sat slowly at the edge of her desk, her shoulders slumping under the pressure. Janelle sat beside her, quiet and waiting.
"I overheard Damian talking to his friend at the gala," Mia whispered. "He said... he plans to divorce me. That now that the Hart merger is finalized, he doesn't need me anymore."
Janelle's face hardened. "That cold, Armani-wrapped bastard-"
"He never loved me," Mia continued, voice trembling. "I knew that. But hearing him say it like that... like I was just a contract signed and done it broke something in me."
"Oh, honey..."
"And the worst part?" Mia blinked at the ceiling, trying not to cry again. "His mother Elena she's been talking about grandbabies like it's just around the corner. She's so excited. She treats me like her own daughter. And I" Her voice cracked. "I want it, too. I want a baby. I want a family. I want something that's mine."
Janelle reached over and pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly without speaking for a moment. Mia rested her cheek on her shoulder, closing her eyes.
"I'm so tired of pretending i don't love him like crazy," Mia whispered. "Of walking past him like we're strangers in the same house. I avoided Rosa all weekend because I know she'd see it she'd know something's wrong. I can't even sit at the same table with him without wondering if he's already done planning his exit and he would give me the divorce papers immediately."
Janelle pulled back slowly and cupped Mia's cheek. "You don't have to carry this alone, you know."
"I don't want anyone to see me fall apart," Mia murmured. "Not Rosa. Not Elena. Not even him."
"You don't have to fall apart. You just need to feel whatever this is, Mia. Cry it out. Be angry. You're allowed to want more than this half-life."
There was a silence between them for a moment.
Then Janelle tilted her head, her mouth curling into a dangerously amused smile. "So get pregnant."
Mia blinked. "What?"
"Get. Pregnant," Janelle repeated, nodding as if she'd just proposed a perfectly reasonable idea. "Girl, if he's gonna divorce you anyway without even giving you a heads up , might as well leave with a piece of him."
Mia gaped at her. "Janelle!"
"I'm serious!"
"You're crazy."
"I am," Janelle said proudly. "But I'm also right. Think about it. You want a baby. He's the man you love. You'd be a phenomenal mom. If he's going to walk away, he shouldn't get to take everything with him."
Mia shook her head, half-laughing, half-crying. "You make it sound so simple."
"Well, it's not like you can drag him to bed and demand a donation, but..." Janelle's voice softened. "You do still have time. He's can't be totally immune to you, Mia. He just doesn't know how to feel like a human."
Mia gave her a look. "He doesn't even look at me."
"Then maybe it's time he started."
Before Mia could answer, a noise at the door snapped her back to reality.
One of her students, little Rosalynn, peeked her head in shyly. "Ms. Mia, is it time for colouring?"
Mia smiled through the tears, still clinging to the corners of her eyes. "Yes, sweetheart. Come in."
Rosalynn beamed and skipped inside, followed by a handful of other bright-eyed first graders. They flooded the room like sunshine laughing, chattering, showing off hair bows and new sneakers. One little boy tugged on her sleeve to show her his tooth was finally gone. Another ran in with a picture he'd drawn over the weekend-stick figures holding hands under a big yellow sun.
Mia knelt beside him and stared at the picture for a long time.
"Is this your family?" she asked.
"Yup! That's me, Mommy and Daddy, and my baby brother."
Her throat tightened as she ruffled his hair.
She glanced over at Janelle, who was now leaning against the doorframe watching with a quiet expression of affection and just a hint of challenge in her eyes.
Mia turned back to her students and smiled through the ache in her heart.
But deep down, the longing had only grown stronger.