Thursday morning came with light creeping through the sheer curtains of Mia's bedroom and brushing across her face like a gentle whisper.
For the first time in days, she didn't wake up with the familiar heaviness on her chest. The ache was still there: quiet, lingering-but underneath it was something new. Something soft and frightening.
Resolve.
Mia lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her hands cradled against her stomach.
She wanted a baby.
Not out of desperation. Not because Elena longed for grandbabies or because her marriage was crumbling. But because she wanted one-because the love growing in her heart had nowhere to go, and she was tired of waiting for permission to claim even the smallest piece of happiness from a life that rarely gave her any.
I can do this, she told herself. Even if he never loves me back. Even if I do it alone.
But how?
She had no idea how to begin. Damian barely looked at her. He treated her with polite coldness at best, and indifference most days. They had never truly shared intimacy-not even once. The only kiss they had exchanged was at the altar: a brief, chaste peck that felt more like a signature on a contract than a vow.
Still, the longing inside her had reached a tipping point.
If he could take everything he wanted from this marriage- shares, legacy, then why couldn't she take something too? Something that mattered?
A child.
A baby to love. A part of him she could keep, even when he left. A piece of this marriage that was hers and hers alone.
Scared and uncertain but unwilling to ignore the fire sparking in her chest, Mia made it through the rest of her morning routine. She dressed with shaking fingers, avoided Rosa's knowing eyes, and drove to work with a mind full of tangled thoughts. But one thing was clear.
She needed to talk to Janelle.
Immediately she got to school she saw Janelle standing in the hallway close to her classroom door. She rushed up to her and said "I want to get pregnant, I want to have a baby."
Janelle paused for a second looking and her in shock but quickly recovered herself.
"I knew you'd come around eventually!" Janelle shouted in a hushed whisper, practically vibrating across the hallway.
Mia grabbed her hand and pulled her inside the classroom with her. She had barely closed the classroom door behind her when this time Janelle grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a supply closet filled with bins of paper and forgotten paintbrushes.
"I didn't say I came around," Mia muttered, cheeks flushed. "I said... I want a baby."
"Same thing," Janelle beamed. "Girl, this is your first real declaration of war. And I'm so proud of you."
"I don't know what I'm doing," Mia admitted. "He doesn't even look at me. We've never-never even come close to... you know. I don't even think he sees me as a woman."
"That's going to change," Janelle said, eyes glinting like she was about to start a revolution. "You've got the heart of a saint and the face of a porcelain doll. We just need to wake up the vixen sleeping underneath all that shy sweetness."
Mia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. "You're crazy."
"I'm brilliant, and you'll thank me later. After work. Café Floré. Four-thirty. I'm bringing plans."
"Plans?"
"A full itinerary," Janelle grinned. "I'm your coach now, Mia. And this is our championship game."
At 4:32, Mia sat nervously in a corner of Café Floré, her tea untouched, her fingers picking at the edge of a paper napkin.
She didn't know how she was going to pull this off. She didn't even know if it was morally right to want something so badly it hurt. But when she thought about holding her baby-her baby-everything else went quiet.
Janelle breezed in wearing wide-leg pants, sunglasses on her head, and a mischievous smile.
"Ready for your briefing?" she said, tossing a pink folder onto the table labeled in gold sharpie:
OPERATION: BABY DADDY.
Mia groaned and hid her face. "You made a folder?"
"I don't half-ass anything. Especially not missions involving babies and sex appeal."
Mia peeked at her, lips twitching. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm effective," Janelle said proudly. She flipped open the folder. "Step One: Look the part. Starting with a wardrobe reset. You've got a killer body under all those cardigan prisons, and it's time to let her out."
Mia flushed scarlet. "You want me to dress sexy?"
"No," Janelle said, eyes sparkling. "I want you to dress confident. Feminine. Soft. Alluring. Not obvious, but powerful. Think silk instead of cotton. Think perfume that lingers."
Mia blinked. "I've never even worn-"
"Don't worry, that's Step Two. Lingerie."
Mia choked on her tea. "Janelle!"
Janelle only laughed. "Saturday. Ten a.m. I'm taking you shopping. It's not just about seduction, Mia. It's about claiming space. Feeling good in your own skin. And making him realize what he's been ignoring."
"I don't even know if he'll notice," Mia whispered.
Janelle's smile softened. "He will. And even if he doesn't... you will. You'll notice you. And maybe for the first time, you'll believe how powerful you really are."
That night, Mia lay in bed with Janelle's pink folder resting on her stomach, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.
She should have felt certain after the day she had. After the decision. After the plan.
But instead, her chest was a tight knot of anxiety.
What if I can't do it? What if he still doesn't see me? What if I try and fail and it just breaks me more than I already am?
She'd never been bold. Never chased anything that didn't quietly find its way to her. She was soft. Gentle. The kind of woman who waited, not the kind who reached out and took.
But tonight, she didn't want to be soft in silence anymore. She didn't want to keep waiting for someone to choose her.
She would make a good mother. She had so much love to give, it spilled out of her in classrooms and quiet corners and lonely nights. Her child would never feel unwanted-not like she had. Not like she sometimes still did.
Even if Damian never looked her way.
Even if she had to do it alone.
So many women did-and they raised strong, beautiful, joyful children. Why not her?
It's okay to want something for yourself, she told herself silently.
Even if it scares you. Even if no one gives it to you.
Damian had gotten everything he wanted out of their marriage.
Maybe it was time she got something, too.
She closed her eyes and imagined a soft laugh. A small hand in hers. Dark eyes that mirrored his, and maybe a quiet smile like hers.
The ache was still there. But this time, it didn't win.
Maybe I can do this, she whispered in her mind.
Maybe I will.
And with that one fragile, hopeful thought, Mia finally drifted off to sleep.