06

Mia's POV

Saturday evening, seven o'clock, in the apartment.

I stared at the deep blue velvet gown on the bed, still torn about whether to wear it or not.

"Mommy?"

Leo's voice came through the crack under the door, accompanied by the pitter-patter sound of his little crocodile slippers hitting the floor.

I stood up abruptly, instinctively wanting to hide the gown under the blanket, but froze halfway through the motion.

Hide it where?

The dress was too large. Spread out, it could cover half the bed. The deep blue velvet shone like a jewel against the floral bedsheet—only a blind person could miss it.

He had already pushed the door open.

My baby stood in the doorway, wearing his somewhat faded dinosaur pajamas, his right hand clutching a crayon for drawing, his left hand smeared with a crooked streak of orange-yellow on the back—probably accidentally wiped on while drawing the sun.

His hair was a bit long, his bangs almost poking his eyes. I should take him for a haircut—this thought seemed especially ill-timed now, but it emerged anyway.

Leo's gaze fell on the bed. His eyes widened into perfect circles, his mouth forming a flawless O shape, the crayon in his hand nearly dropping to the floor.

"Wow—" he drew out the sound, his little legs pitter-pattering over, standing beside the bed and reaching out a finger to touch the gown's hem ever so lightly. "Mommy, are you turning into a princess?"

I crouched down, my eyes level with Leo's.

He had eyes exactly like mine—light-colored, slightly downturned at the corners, curving into crescents when he smiled. These eyes were now looking at me brightly, filled with all the curiosity and anticipation a five-year-old had for the world.

"Not a princess," I reached out to touch his head, my fingertips running through his soft hair. "Just going to work."

"Can I go?" Leo's eyes lit up. He raised his hand and waved it. "I can be your knight! Ollie in my class said when his mommy goes to work he goes with her, he can be a knight—I can too! I'll protect you!"

"Not this time, baby." I ruffled his hair, trying hard to ignore the light dimming in Leo's eyes. "Auntie Zoe will come play with you later, okay?"

"Okay."

Leo was silent for two seconds, then suddenly stepped forward and buried his face in my embrace.

"Mommy," his voice muffled against my shoulder, "you have to come back early."

I rested my chin on top of his head, closed my eyes, and hugged him tightly. "Okay, Mommy promises."

Leo pulled out of my embrace, took his crayon, and walked back to the living room, the pitter-patter of his little crocodile slippers gradually fading away.

In the end, I changed into that dress and did simple makeup, putting my hair up.

My skills weren't great.

The low bun came loose twice, barely holding together on the third attempt. A few stray strands escaped from my temples, hanging by my ears, refusing to stay pinned no matter what I did.

I looked up at the woman in the mirror, feeling that the stranger staring back made my heart race.

The velvet's luster was too expensive, making even the walls of my rented apartment look shabby in comparison.

I was like a clown forcibly stuffed into an elaborate costume, standing behind a curtain about to be drawn, clutching a script that didn't belong to me.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I instinctively fumbled to wrap the gown inside my coat, but Zoe had already opened the door with her key.

Zoe stood in the doorway, one hand carrying a supermarket shopping bag with chips and chocolate wafers peeking out from the top, the other hand holding an already-opened lollipop, with another one in her mouth.

"Leo, baby! Auntie Zoe is here—look what I brought you, strawberry lollipops. Your mommy said you can only have one but guess what, I bought three—"

Her movements froze abruptly when she caught sight of the blue gown I hadn't completely covered, the lollipop sliding from her mouth without her even trying to catch it.

"Holy shit." Zoe threw the shopping bag onto the sofa, rushed over in two strides, and yanked open the coat hiding the gown.

"You put it on." Her voice trembled. "Mia, you actually put it on."

"Zoe, keep it down—"

"Turn around." She pressed my shoulders with force that brooked no refusal. "Quick, let me see."

She pushed me into a turn.

The deep blue velvet wrapped around me, the neckline perfectly framing my collarbones, the waistline clean and sharp, the hem slightly flaring at my ankles, creating delicate ripples around my feet when I walked.

Zoe took half a step back, arms crossed over her chest, examining me from head to toe. Her expression was complex—her mouth smiling, but her eyes crying, her whole face contorted into an expression both laughing and weeping, looking somewhat comical yet making you want to cry along with her.

"You know," her voice dropped, "five years ago when you came to London to find me pregnant, you wore a faded sweatshirt, belly protruding, dragging a suitcase with a broken wheel, shivering in the cold wind at the airport, still smiling and telling me 'Zoe, I'm fine, I'm really fine.'"

She raised her hand to wipe her eyes, then smiled again: "Now look at you, Mia Sterling, you look fucking gorgeous."

"Mommy's beautiful," Leo earnestly chimed in from the side. "More beautiful than all the flowers in the world."

My nose stung. I crouched down and hugged Leo, burying my face in his milk-scented neck.

Leo obediently let me hold him, and like when I used to comfort him to sleep as a baby, he raised his small hand and patted my back over and over.

"Mommy," he whispered in my ear, "if you're going to find the person who makes you pretty, I'll be very happy."

I froze. How did Leo know...?

I had never told him about Calvin. Never.

Between us, daddy was a topic carefully skirted around. I didn't know what version of the story he'd pieced together in his little head, but clearly he'd pieced together far more than I thought.

"Mommy, you know what," Leo pulled back a bit, looking seriously into my eyes, "that day when you were looking at that old T-shirt, you were smiling, smiling really happily."

The doorbell rang again.

I breathed a sigh of relief, hastily stood up, handed Leo to Zoe, randomly wiped my face, and went to open the door.

Outside stood a man in uniform—black suit, white gloves, with a Blackwood Gallery badge pinned to his chest.

"Miss Sterling," he bowed slightly, "Mr. Blackwood sent me to pick you up. He has something urgent and couldn't come personally, but wants to ensure you arrive at the venue on time."

I stood there frozen: "I don't need—"

"This is the gentleman's phone." The driver handed me a black phone, the screen showing an ongoing call.

I took it. Ethan's voice came through with electrical static. "Mia, don't refuse. I don't want to see photos in tomorrow's Daily Mail of my assistant climbing out of an Uber in a haute couture gown."

"I can go by myself—" I was still struggling.

"The driver is already waiting downstairs." He interrupted me. "Tonight is a work function. You're attending on behalf of Blackwood Gallery. Arriving in a proper car is the most basic professional standard."

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something more, but the call had already ended.

I looked down at the phone, then up at the driver. He maintained his perfect bowing posture, waiting for my response.

"Miss Sterling?"

I took a deep breath and looked back toward the entryway.

Zoe was holding Leo, her chin resting on Leo's small shoulder, giving me a thumbs up, mouthing words in exaggerated fashion one by one—blow—them—all—away.

Leo held up his blue crayon above his head, like raising a tiny sword.

My little knight, giving me the highest send-off ceremony.

I turned back, took a deep breath, straightened my back, and lifted my hem.

"Let's go."