Apparently, my last outburst was the slap in the face they all needed.
After I suggested my mother create a schedule or just go full harem and have a threesome, the three of them finally stopped pretending everything was fine.
My mother asked for some distance.
Both men agreed. Kind of.
Except their idea of distance was sending her:
Flowers Jewelry Luxury desserts Dresses for her Dresses for us Handwritten letters in dramatic calligraphy A literal violinist who showed up and played "Unchained Melody" outside the window
We now lived inside a K-drama.
I just rolled my eyes.
Currently, I was sitting cross-legged at my tiny desk, reading a book about sign language while sipping apple juice.
My sister, beside me, was finishing a math problem like the mini genius she is.
We both had our cute matching desks, custom-made and small enough to fit in the reading nook, complete with a snack station nearby.
Yes. We were four.
And yes. We were child prodigies.
Perks of being the lead's children.
When Lily finished her worksheet, she showed it to me.
I checked it, nodded in approval, and handed her a cookie.
She beamed.
"Thanks, Sel!"
"Wanna learn sign language with me?"
She nodded so fast I thought her curls might fly off.
We started practicing the alphabet, fingers clumsy but determined.
Not far from us, I could hear my mother.
She was on the couch, talking to her best friend—Aunt Tonya, a hot, sarcastic lesbian who wore tailored suits like a goddess and had been in my life since diaper days.
"Rumors have been swirling for years about my relationship with them," my mother said. "And now I'm starting to think maybe the world is right. Maybe I am in a relationship with both of them."
Aunt Tonya snorted.
"I've been telling you for years . Now let me know when you're ready to add me to the harem."
Mom smacked her playfully on the arm.
"Stop it."
"No, really," Tonya continued. "Just make a schedule, like your daughter said. Monday–Wednesday: Caelum. Thursday–Saturday: Dorian. Sunday: Rest, reflection, or me."
I had to clamp down on my laugh so hard I nearly choked on my juice.
Lily signed the letter R wrong, and I corrected her silently, still trying not to snort.
"You do realize," Aunt Tonya added, "you're living in a commune now, right? You're basically a hot tech-hippie queen with a rotating lineup of baby daddies. Own it."
My mother threw her head back and laughed so hard she cried.
She looked... radiant. Comfortable.
Ridiculous. But radiant.
And strangely?
Things got better after that.
The three of them seemed to have quietly formed a new routine. The tension was gone. The morning bickering stopped. No more veiled insults or passive-aggressive toast-cutting.
They still lived in their separate houses, of course. That much hadn't changed.
But they were glowing.
Yeah, I know why.
I just try not to think about it.
As long as nobody's arguing over eggs and I'm not hearing the word "threesome" before 8 a.m. , I'm satisfied.