Maya's POV
The smoke alarm screamed just as my phone started ringing.
I lunged for the frying pan, flames licking up from what used to be scrambled eggs. My hand grabbed the handle—stupid, stupid—and pain shot through my palm. The pan clattered into the sink as I twisted the faucet on, water hissing against hot metal.
"Mommy!" Lily's voice pierced through the chaos. "The phone's ringing!"
"Let it ring!" I shouted back, waving a dish towel at the smoke detector like a crazy person. The ringing stopped. Then immediately started again.
Of course it did.
I jabbed the answer button without checking the caller ID, still fanning smoke. "What?"
"Well. Good morning to you too, Maya."
My blood turned to ice.
Marcus.
I hadn't heard my ex-husband's voice in three months. Three peaceful, Marcus-free months where I didn't have to hear how I was doing everything wrong, how I was wasting my life on "art projects," how I was damaging our daughter by not giving her a "stable home."
"What do you want?" I turned off the stove, my burned hand throbbing.
"I'm coming to Rosewood Falls for Valentine's week."
The dish towel slipped from my fingers. "You're what?"
"I have rights, Maya. I want to spend time with my daughter." His voice was smooth, lawyer-perfect. The same voice that had promised to love me forever. The same voice that had told me, two years ago on Valentine's Day, that he'd been sleeping with my best friend Rebecca for six months.
"You haven't called Lily in two months." My voice shook. I hated that it shook. "You missed her birthday. You missed Christmas. Now suddenly you want to play dad?"
"I've been busy with work. You know how demanding my practice is."
Of course. Work. It was always work. Except when it was Rebecca. Or the next woman after Rebecca. Or the woman after that.
"The custody agreement says—"
"I know what it says. I wrote it, remember?" That cold smugness in his tone made my stomach twist. "I'll be there Sunday. I've already booked a hotel. Don't make this difficult, Maya."
The line went dead.
I stood in my smoky kitchen, phone clutched in my shaking hand, trying to remember how to breathe. Sunday was two days away. Valentine's week. Of all the weeks in the year, he picked the one that already felt like walking through broken glass.
"Mommy?" Lily appeared in the doorway, her dark eyes—Marcus's eyes, the only beautiful thing he'd given me—wide with concern. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not—" I touched my cheek. Wet. "The smoke. It's just the smoke, baby."
She didn't believe me. Six years old and already too smart for her own good.
"Did Daddy call?" She twisted her little hands together. "Is he mad again?"
God, I hated that she asked that. Hated that she knew what "mad" sounded like from him.
"No, sweetie. He's not mad. He just... he wants to visit you next week."
Her face lit up for exactly two seconds before doubt crept in. "Really? He promised last time and didn't come."
"I know." I knelt down, ignoring my burned hand, and pulled her close. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and the lavender detergent I used on her pajamas. "But this time he's really coming."
"Will he stay? Will he live with us again?" The hope in her voice broke something in my chest.
"No, baby. He's just visiting."
"Oh." Her shoulders slumped. Then she perked up with that resilient joy only kids have. "Maybe you could get a new daddy? Mrs. Chen next door got a new husband after Mr. Chen died. He's really nice and he shares his cookies."
"That's different, Lily—"
"But you're so pretty, Mommy! And you're the best artist in the whole world! Someone would want to be my new daddy."
I hugged her tighter, blinking back fresh tears. Two years since the divorce and she still asked about this. Still hoped I'd find someone who'd stay. Who'd love us. Who wouldn't leave or cheat or make me feel like I was never quite enough.
"How about we focus on breakfast?" I straightened up, trying to smile. "I'll make pancakes. The not-burned kind."
"Can I have chocolate chips?"
"Sure, baby. Go wash your hands."
She skipped off and I sagged against the counter, staring at the ruined eggs in the sink. This was my life now. Burned breakfasts and custody calls and a daughter who wanted a father who didn't see her as a weapon to hurt me with.
I moved to the window over the sink, needing air, needing to see something other than my tiny kitchen closing in on me.
That's when I saw the moving truck.
Someone was moving into the old craftsman house next door. The one that had been empty for six months. A huge truck blocked the street, and men in work clothes were unloading furniture.
Then he stepped out from behind the truck.
Tall. Dark wavy hair. Even from here I could see he was built, moving a heavy box like it weighed nothing. He wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but something about the way he moved was... different. Confident. Graceful. Like he knew exactly who he was.
He turned his head, and for one impossible moment, I swear he looked right at me.
Our eyes met across the distance.
My breath caught.
Then my phone rang again in my hand, making me jump.
Unknown number.
My thumb hovered over the decline button. But something made me answer.
"Hello?"
Heavy breathing on the other end. Then a woman's voice, choked with tears. "Maya Chen?"
"Yes? Who is this?"
"This is Rebecca." My ex-best friend. The one who'd slept with my husband. I hadn't heard from her since the divorce. "I'm calling to warn you. Marcus isn't coming to see Lily. He's coming to take her. He's filing for full custody. He's been planning it for months."
The world tilted.
"What? He can't—"
"He can. And he will. His new girlfriend is pregnant, Maya. He wants to prove he's the stable parent. He's going to use everything—your art career, your finances, every mistake you've ever made. I heard him talking to his lawyer. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for everything, but you need to prepare. He's going to try to take your daughter."
The line went dead.
I dropped the phone.
Through the window, the new neighbor was still there, watching my house now with an intensity that should have scared me.
But all I could think was: Marcus is coming to take Lily.
And I had two days to figure out how to stop him.
Behind me, Lily sang a happy song about chocolate chip pancakes, completely unaware that her world was about to explode.
Again.