Chapter Text
Reader’s POV
You hate your family.
You shouldn’t think these cruel, harsh words. But here you are, slumped on the bus after a family gathering, teetering on the edge of another mental breakdown unable to stop the thoughts.
You’re mentally exhausted, as if your family has drained every ounce of energy from you.
Why did you even go? Why didn’t you make an excuse - say you were working or sick? You know why: you didn’t want your parents blowing up your phone or worse, showing up at your apartment or workplace unannounced. Your colleagues already think you’re a weirdo; you don’t need your family causing a scene.
Once a month, your parents insist that you and your siblings gather “to prevent drifting apart,” because apparently nothing is more important than family. Every month, you dread it. No matter how much you prepare mentally, give yourself pep talks in the mirror, or rehearse comebacks to their demeaning remarks, it always ends the same way - badly.
You are the black sheep and your family makes sure you never forget it.
On the outside, nobody would know you come from money. Both your parents came from wealthy backgrounds and have kept that wealth investing in real estate.
You’re the youngest of three: your older twin siblings are their pride and joy. Both are married with children - your brother just welcomed twin girls, your sister has an eight-year-old son. Your brother is a lawyer, your sister runs her own dental clinic alongside her husband.
To put it bluntly, they are accomplished, stable, and successful % college graduates with secure jobs, nice homes, cars and happy families.
You? You’re nothing like them.
College? Skipped - you never knew which career path to take, so you decided against it.
Since high school, you’ve been a barista, living in a small one-bedroom apartment, have no car and rely on public transport. No stability.
Relationship? You're single. No partner in sight. The thought of marriage or children? Laughable.
In your family’s eyes, you’re a failure. A disappointment.
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Hospitals make you uneasy. Cold, sterile - too impersonal. Yet you’re a regular, not for illness but because you donate blood and your cousin, Greyson, works there. Greyson, a pediatrician, is the only family member you like. He never judges, criticizes, or belittles you.
Today, you approach reception to see Nurse Yvonne, who is clearly distressed.
“Yvonne, what’s going on?” you ask, placing pastries on the counter.
“A boy from pediatrics is missing,” she says. “Security and staff, including Dr. Greyson, are searching. The patient was discharged this morning but when his father came, he wasn’t in the room.”
“He can’t have gone far. I’ll help,” you say. “I know this hospital like the back of my hand.”
“Yes, please!” Yvonne says. “He’s five, black hair, green eyes - Milo.”
You head to the courtyard at the back of the hospital, empty and quiet. Then something grabs your leg. Startled, you look down: Milo, just as described.
“Are you Milo?” you crouch.
He nods, smiles softly “Mama”.
Relief floods you. “Everyone’s worried. Let’s get you back”. His hand is tiny in yours.
Back at reception, a man runs up, Greyson close behind. He scoops Milo into his arms - handsome, tall, broad, dark brown hair, purple eyes…nothing like Milo, he must take after his mother.
“We’ve been looking everywhere!” Greyson pants.
“In the garden,” you say. “Though technically, he found me.”
Milo points: “Mama!”
Milo’s father looks at you, surprised.
You don’t understand why he calls you that. Perhaps you resemble his mother?
The man apologizes for the trouble and thanks you sincerely, then leaves. All the while, Milo’s sad eyes stay on you. You wave, sheepish, then continue your day.
Even at work after your blood donation, your mind drifts back to Milo.
---------------------------------------------------
You’re on your lunch break when your phone rings. Seeing Greyson’s name, you actually pick up.
“Hey! Do you remember Milo? The boy from the hospital a few days ago?” he asks.
“Yes,” you reply.
“Well, his father stopped by asking about you,” Greyson continues.
“Me?” you ask, surprised.
“He wanted to know if I knew you. When I explained you’re my cousin, he seemed relieved and practically begged for your number. Don’t worry…I didn’t give it to him,” Greyson adds.
“Okay?” you say, unsure where this is going.
“Well…he’s in the waiting area now and refuses to leave until he talks to you.”
You sigh. “Hand me the phone,” you say.
A rustle, then a man’s voice you’ve only heard once before comes through the speaker.
“Hello?”
“I heard you wanted to talk to me. I don’t appreciate you causing trouble for my cousin,” you say dismissively.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I know this seems weird and creepy, but I really needed to speak to you - in person. Can we meet?” he says in one breath.
“Whatever you have to say, tell me now,” you shut him down.
“The conversation isn’t one we can have over the phone. Please…just give me a chance to explain. It’s really important. It concerns Milo.”
Hearing Milo’s name makes something shift inside you. You can hear the anxiety in his voice.
“I don’t get off work until after eight,” you reply.
“That’s fine. Can you meet me at the diner Retro Bites?” the man pleads.
And just like that, you find yourself agreeing to meet a complete stranger who somehow thinks you’re now involved in his son’s life.
You walk into the diner, the bell ringing overhead and immediately spot the man you’re here to meet. He stands as you approach, then sits opposite you.
A waitress comes over. You order an iced tea, he orders the same.
“Thank you so much for coming. I was worried you’d change your mind and ditch me. I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, shaking his head.
You admit to yourself that you did consider it.
“Anyway, about time I introduce myself. I’m Caleb,” he says, offering a boyish grin and extending his hand.
You take it. His handshake is firm but not uncomfortable, sending a shiver up your spine. You shift in your seat, suddenly awkward. The waitress returns with your drinks and you focus on the ice bobbing in your glass, twisting the straw with your fingers.
“I owe you an explanation,” Caleb begins. “Just…please hear me out and keep an open mind.”
You raise a brow.
Caleb sighs audibly. “I’m not Milo’s father. I’m his uncle. My younger sister, Emcee - Milo’s mother - and Zayne, Milo’s father and my best friend, died two years ago in an accident during a trip to the Arctic.
His eyes carry the weight of that tragedy.
You say nothing, just nod.
Caleb takes a sip of his drink. “Milo is emotionally withdrawn. He barely speaks, even to me. He’s wary of people. The doctors aren’t sure if it’s medical or a trauma response to losing his parents.”
He slumps forward, resting an elbow on the table, head bowed. “I’ve been doing my best to raise him but his grandparents - Zayne’s parents - think I’m not capable. They believe Milo would be better off with them. They’re retired, can be around 24/7, have easier access to medical care and can send him to a private preschool.”
“The main issue for them is that I’m raising him alone, but think Milo needs a ‘complete family’ - a mother and father figure.” Caleb looks up at you, eyes glossy. “Milo is all I have left of my sister. I can’t let them take him.”
He rubs his temples. “Here’s where it gets complicated. The other day, when we were visiting, Milo’s well-being came up, and out of panic, I lied - I said I’d recently gotten married.”
Caleb leans in, serious. “I know we’re strangers and this is a huge ask, but…will you be my wife?”
You freeze. Has this man lost his mind?
“The moment I mentioned being married, Milo’s grandparents calmed down but of course, they’ll eventually want to meet the ‘wife’. Because of how Milo is around people, I can’t just ask anyone. That’s when I thought of you. You’re the first stranger Milo’s ever been comfortable with. He never lets people touch him, or approach him, yet he calls you ‘mama.’
“Look, we don’t have to actually marry. We just need to act, long enough to prove I’m capable of raising Milo and secure official custody.”
You blink rapidly, downing your drink before speaking.
“So, let me get this straight…you want me to pretend to be your wife and Milo’s substitute mother to get his grandparents off your back and help you gain full custody?”
“What the hell do you think this is, some kind of TV drama show?!” you exclaim, gesturing at the absurdity.
Caleb slumps back, looking defeated.
You sigh. “I’m truly sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what that feels like. It’s brave of you to step up and raise Milo alone. I’m sure you’re doing your best. I may not have kids but my siblings do and I know it’s challenging”.
You stand. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. What you’re asking is…ridiculous.”
Caleb also stands. “It was foolish of me to involve a stranger…I’ll figure something out.”
He reaches into his pocket and hands you a business card. “Here’s my work address and number if you ever change your mind. Thanks for coming and hearing me out.”
You take the card. “I do wish you all the best. I hope everything works out,” you say before turning to leave.
As you walk away, you can feel Caleb’s eyes on you.
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Why Do You Never Learn Your Lesson?
You’re at the dining table, lunch at your parents’ house - yet another family gathering. Today’s topic of choice: your love life.
You should put yourself out there.
Stop being so high-maintenance.
You need to lower your standards.
If you don’t hurry, all the good men will be taken.
Your biological clock is ticking.
Same old. Same old.
You barely touch your lunch, stomach in knots, pushing food around the plate. You try to remain calm, but finally, your resolve snaps. You bang your fist on the table, cutlery rattling.
“Enough!”
“Since you’re all so invested in my love life,” you shout, “I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear I recently got married. Yes, that’s right, I have a husband.”
The room goes still.
It takes a moment to register what you just said. Oh god. What on earth came over you? Your anger got the better of you.
Your sister breaks the silence first. “Yeah, right,” she snickers. “I don’t see a ring.”
Her remark flares your simmering anger. “Unfortunately, the size was wrong. It kept slipping off my finger, so it’s at the jeweler being resized,” you lie on the spot.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, young lady,” your father says firmly. “But you’d better explain yourself.”
“We didn’t even know you were dating anyone, let alone married!” your mother chimes in. “If this is true, why weren’t we invited to the wedding?”
“Just who is this husband of yours, dear sister?” your brother mocks.
Too late to take it back. You continue the lie. “My husband’s name is Caleb. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to scare him off. We’ve only been married a few weeks. Since Caleb has no living family, we decided to marry at City Hall. Also, Caleb has a son who’s very shy around people, so we didn’t want him overwhelmed. And because we had only been dating a short time, I didn’t want anyone interfering or talking me out of our decision.”
You’re surprised at how convincingly the words come out. Your family stares, disbelief written on their faces. Your heart races, your palms are sweaty.
“If this is true,” your father says, “when were you planning to tell us?”
“I was going to announce it at auntie’s birthday next week. I planned to bring him and his son so you could all meet at once.”
“Very well,” your mother says. “We look forward to meeting them.”
Everyone turns back to eating, the moment passing.
You don’t linger. Not long after, you make a run for it, pulling out Caleb’s business card, praying he’s still in need of a wife.