the stone wall held the afternoon's warmth.
i knelt, pulling mint runners from the strawberries.

my son called out from the overgrown corner where raspberries fought with bindweed.
he was crouched low, my daughter beside him. the man went to them.
he knelt on one knee in the dirt.

"a king," my daughter whispered.

it was a beetle, horned and slow.
he watched my son point a careful twig toward it.
his gaze followed my daughter's tiny finger as she traced its path to a castle of moss.
he asked what the king ate for breakfast.

a question born of pure curiosity.
i saw him visit the world they were building.
his presence was the quiet weight of one knee pressed into the damp earth.

they'll see. of course they'll see.
he has to take me back. that new fella was clearly a cosmic test. and i failed. so what.
that means mark is the actual one.
his wife just exists. silently. in the background. whatever.
i'm the exciting one. i'm the one who made him feel alive.
a little bit of party powder was a phase. a fun phase. largely.
and now i'm sad. people online get sad. they'll get me.
they'll tell him he's a fool if he doesn't welcome me with open arms.
because i said sorry. that's the magic word, right?
my hands are shaking. this is how i get him back.
he probably checks my socials anyway. this is basically a dm.
a public dm. for accountability. his accountability.
they'll all agree i deserve another chance. because i'm interesting. and remorseful. obviously.
this is going to work.