the d in divorce stands for 'despite everything, it's still you.'
sypnosis. [ 11.7k words ] lawyer!mydei x math!professor!reader. divorced parents + daughter au. — endless nights of waiting for him to change pushes you to the edge and file for divorce. almost six years after the divorce was finalized, mydei asks to see you without your daughter.
usagi's note: header credit here! PLEASEEE I KNOW I SAID 8K BUT IM A LIAR OKAY, ITS NEVER WITHIN 8K WORDS OMFG, BUT TRUST I COOKED WITH THIS ONE. ive been watching too many cdramas like a facebook mom omfg. i didn't give melina (your daughter, whose name means honey btw) any physical traits so u guys can rlly envision what she looks like as YOUR daughter! (personally i see melina like mel from arcane or like annabeth from pjo bcs i can't see myself having kids, but thats just me LOL). enjoy mydei lvrs!
“Melina, be good, okay? See you next week, honey.”
You hug your daughter tight and she nods against your clavicle as you look up for a second at the man in front of the doorway. The girl in your embrace pulls away and you give her a kiss on the crown of her head, then she walks to her father’s car.
You give Mydei the luggage you packed with Mel the day before, reminding him of her events during the week.
“Mel signed herself up for an archery class this Wednesday, I’ll send you the address later, but if you can’t drive her there, I can.”
The man shakes his head, “No, I can take her, I’ll make time.”
You pause and nod stiffly at that. Neither of you say anything.
Then a long beep comes from the car, followed by muffled complaints.
“Yeah, I’ll drop her off next week.”
“Yep.”
And that was it.
Five years. It’s been five years since the divorce finalized. Seven since you brought the papers up—but five years since this arrangement has been going on.
Melina was ten years old at the time, barely coherent enough to understand the weight of the effects of the decision you both had made. Your mother kept saying she was too young to understand, and you knew that. Really, you did.
But this was a situation where you could put yourself first without taking her childhood away from her or his fatherhood from him.
So here we are, five years of weekly dropoffs and pickups with your ex-husband, Mydei.
Was it ideal? Definitely not.
Was it necessary? Maybe.
Did you miss him? Next question.
…
It doesn’t take long for your daughter to update you.
Honey Hi mommmm We r getting ice cream Dad is rewarding me for acing my test !! You That’s good, honey. Make sure to drink water after, okay? [ <3 ] reacted by Melina
…
You Make sure she drinks water. Mydei Wouldn’t forget it. [ thumbs up ] reacted by You
…
The rest of the week goes on just like that. Mel would update you, Mydei would clarify some things for her schedule, you and your daughter would call when she gets stuck in one of her advanced mathematic questions—she’d fall asleep on call saying she’s only ‘resting’ and you’d chuckle when you hear her snore after a while.
You decide to message your ex-husband after a while of just admiring your daughter, your heart blooming for fondness as you gaze at her through the screen.
How could one foster such longing for a daughter so loved?
You sigh and type out the message.
You Mydei, can you carry Mel to her bed? She’s gonna get a crick in her neck when she wakes up.
Mydei She fell asleep at her desk again?
You Yep.
Mydei I’m coming up now.
…
It doesn’t take long for the doorknob to twist and open. You hear him sigh in amusement through the phone as he picks her up carefully and tucks her in bed.
You stay quiet through all of it and just… watch.
Mydei does, too. After tucking her in properly, he pauses—looking content.
It’s normal, you suppose. With her studying as hard as she can for her upcoming entrance exams—she’s 17 now. Almost an adult, and growing ever so fast. Neither you nor Mydei have the time to know everything she did like when she was a child.
He must not see her asleep often—being busy with cases and paperwork. Only having time to pick her up from school, cook dinner, and go back to working on the documents.
But he’s changed.
He isn’t the same as before.
And it does little to soothe the pinpricks of your heart bleeding out through your chest.
Mydei sucks in a breath through the phone and when your eyes flit back to your phone, you find that he’s already looking at you.
“You miss her already?” He asks in a hushed voice.
You swallow—trying to make sure your voice won’t croak, “Yeah.” Your eyes turn to Mel who was sleeping peacefully on the bed behind him, “Yeah, I do.”
That makes your ex-husband sigh softly, “It’s only Friday, two more days and she’s yours again.”
“I know,” you murmur, scrolling idly at your laptop—browsing through your students’ essay submissions.
You say nothing for a while and neither does Mydei as he starts to tidy up the papers, books, and pens on Melina’s desk.
You don’t know the right word for it.
You don’t know how to describe the feeling of it.
Domestic, maybe—but how is being on call from your daughter’s phone with your divorced ex-husband considered domestic? You don’t know. Maybe it’s just the familiarity of it all.
Maybe you’re just tired.
“Hey, Mydei, I’m going to end the call now, I have a few calls to make and a dozen papers to grade,” you tell him to catch his attention and you see him raise an eyebrow through the screen.
“This late at night?”
You swallow hard, caught in the lie, “Y-yeah… you know how it is with Cas and Aglaea, I need to consult a few things from the kids’ submissions.”
You pray to Nikador he believes your bullshit and doesn’t push.
He won’t.
He never does, but with how his brows are furrowed together—you know he doesn’t buy it at all.
Still, he relents, “Okay, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The moment the call drops, you deflate into the ergonomic chair he bought—a matching set you and Mel have. You press your palms into your eyes.
God, five years in, and everything is still about him.
You don’t know how to feel anymore.
Ever since the divorce finalized, nothing felt right anymore. Mydei was respectful. Always have been. You never divorced because of any abuse, but because you felt… Well it doesn’t matter how you felt.
In the end, no matter how many times you’d try to talk to him, to think of a solution, to attend countless couple’s therapy sessions. It didn’t matter, none of it did. Because at the end of the day, he still didn’t have time for you nor Melina.
It was always case after case after case. His work always came first.
You had tried to understand at first, after all you were both chasing promotions at the time. You with your professor’s thesis, and Mydei with his heavy cases. You told yourself it was just a busy week.
Until a week became a month, a month became a season, and before you knew it, your daughter turns nine without her father by her side and he’s only been there for about half her life.
He’d come home, folders stacked under his arm, apologies spewing from his mouth as he tells you, ‘it’s the last time, I promise’.
The last time he forgets to attend a parent-teacher conference.
The last time he comes home late to a dinner long-gone cold.
The last time he puts work first.
It never happened.
And when one day, you give him the divorce papers, he doesn’t even ask why. Doesn’t even try to reason. He doesn’t fight you for it. Just stares at the papers you’d given him for a whole minute before moving to get a pen and signs his name on all of them.
That was it.
Eleven years of marriage, a daughter that’s ten years old, signed away in a minute, not even being fought for one.
Maybe that’s what hurts the most about it all.
Mydei’s a lawyer.
He fights for his client at the court almost every day.
He’s a fucking lawyer and yet he didn’t even fight you for the divorce papers.
Just looked like he’d long known about it. He just… accepted it. And signed away without a second thought, not even looking at you, just downing his black coffee and left.
It took you four hours to even move from your spot and even then your legs shook so much that you had to call your brother—Phainon—to take Melina to school and preferably for the rest of the afternoon.
…
The next two years following that were even harder.
Not only did you have to face him multiple times at court just to prove that you both really did want this divorce—you had to face multiple counselling sessions, the worried stares of all your friends and family, and juggle your job to prove that you can have custody and take care of your daughter.
But you were also faced with the daunting task of trying to explain divorce to a ten year-old child.
You let her ask whatever she wants—making sure you hold her in your arms or some part of her as she does. You try to answer as best as you can, Mydei answering some questions she asks him, too.
You just didn’t know her next question would make both your hearts stop.
“Does Daddy still love us, Mommy?”
Oh, how you wanted to know that, too.
“I’m sure he does,” you try to reassure her, trying not to look at the man behind her, and holding her hands, “It’s just… Daddy and Mommy need to… need to have a break from each other, okay?”
“Forever?”
You try to blink back tears, “Yes, honey. It’s… It’s kind of complicated.”
“But why?”
“Because… because Daddy and Mommy have different goals in life right now…”
Mel is quiet for a while—fidgeting with her toys on the floor as you rub your thumb on her knee in a circle, trying to reassure her in the subtlest way possible just so you couldn’t disturb her train of thought.
“Are…” her voice breaks—and you think a piece of your heart does, too.
“Are we still going to be a family?”
You swallow down your own tears and hold Mel as tight as you could.
“Yes, sweetheart,” your words catch on the hitch of your breath, “always, baby, we’ll always be a family.”
And she sobs. Melina sobs for the first time since she started asking questions and the way she does lets you know that she was trying so hard to be brave and mature about the whole thing.
You truly did not think your heart could break any further.
Until she calls out daddy in such a broken voice that you do all you could, shut your eyes and sigh quietly—just so you don’t break down, too.
Mydei comes up and embraces the two of you tightly, a pained inhale comes from him as Mel switches her position and buries her face in his neck instead. He tightens his grip around the both of you.
You think of it as him apologizing—maybe trying to offer some comfort for your daughter.
You tuck the thought that maybe this was as close to an apology that you were going to get from him to the very back of your head.
…
After the lawyer and social worker talked to Melina, the divorce agreement was drafted with a few new additions from your daughter.
Both parents must remain in continuous contact.
Custody exchange is scheduled weekly.
All of Melina’s events are to be attended by both parents.
You sign the papers without hesitation.
You’d give anything for Melina to be happy.
…
It was hard at first.
Melina didn’t want to adhere to the custody schedule during the first few months. She’d cry, she’d scream, flail around, saying she didn’t want to leave your house when Mydei came to pick her up, or that she didn’t want to leave his when you did, or when he had to drop her off. Instead, she kept asking ‘why?’
“Why can’t we just live in one house anymore?”
“Why can’t Daddy live with us again?”
“Why can’t Mommy just come over?”
It was… a lot.
Every time Mydei had to come in front of your doorstep, holding your sobbing daughter in his arms, he’d look so… mournful. Tired, even.
There are times he’d call you over at night—telling you that Mel refused to go to sleep without you beside her. You’d come over, only to leave a while after she falls asleep. He’d offer to drive you back and you would refuse, and he’ll leave it at that.
But eventually, it got better.
Mel got used to the weekly switches, you’d attend every event she had with her father, and just like your daughter’s terms in the agreement, you stayed in contact with Mydei.
He’d send updates about her, or even tell you when he’ll be picking her up and dropping her off.
Mydei changed.
He’s early to all Mel’s events—on time for pick-up and drop-off, has all her stuff accounted for, takes her for ice-cream or any sweet treat she loves every time she achieves a goal she’s set. It’s something she’s gotten from him, must be a genealogical trait or something.
The most surprising thing is—Mel tells you that he’s picked up cooking again.
It was something he stopped doing when she was around six and had gotten busy with work. It surprised you to learn that he picked it up again.
He’d cook their dinners and even send her some to take home. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him his cooking.
And sometimes—quietly, unwillingly—you wonder if this version of him had always been there.
And you hate that a part of you keeps circling back to the same thought—that maybe it was easier for him to become this man when it was just him and Mel.
That maybe you were the variable that made everything harder.
The thing that didn’t quite fit.
If maybe… it just never showed up when you were still part of the equation.
You try not to think too much about what that might mean.
No.
You shake the thought off before it can settle.
You didn’t walk away for nothing. You didn’t leave because you were the problem—you left because the relationship was. Because love, on its own, hadn’t been enough to make it work.
And maybe things are easier now. Maybe he’s better now.
But that doesn’t rewrite what the two of you were.
If he can show up for Mel the way she deserves, then that’s all that matters.
That’s enough for you.
…
Months pass in a way they hadn’t before—steadier. Not exactly easier, but… manageable.
You fall into routines you didn’t think you’d ever get used to—Work. Home. Mel. The empty spaces in between.
Therapy becomes one of them.
At first, it feels strange—sitting in a room and saying things out loud that you’d spent years swallowing down. But eventually, the words come easier. You learn how to sit with the silence after them. Learn how to name things for what they are, instead of what you wished they could’ve been.
Some days are heavier than others.
But you get through them.
Mel does, too—though in her own way.
She throws herself into archery with a kind of focus that reminds you a little too much of Mydei, shoulders squared and eyes sharp with determination. What starts as a hobby turns into something she actively pursues, something she talks about over dinner with bright, animated gestures.
Somewhere along the way, she picks up taekwondo, too—for fun, she insists, even as she drags you along to watch practices and shows off new moves in the living room.
She’s… happy.
And that makes everything else easier to bear.
Things with Mydei settle into something else entirely.
Not what you had before—never that—but something functional. Something steady.
You talk when you need to. About schedules, about Mel, about the little things that come with raising her between two homes. The sharp edges between you two dull over time, worn down by distance and routine.
And somewhere along the way, without really noticing when it happened, you stop hoping.
Stop waiting for something that isn’t coming back.
You learn how to speak to him again without it meaning more than it should.
It’s… normal.
Or at least, close enough.
…
You’re in a lecture room when Mydei texts you on a random day during your turn of the custody exchange.
Mydei I have to drop Mel off for a few hours.
Your brows furrow at the message, Mydei was supposed to pick her up from archery and spend a few hours with her today since he had a less busy week than you did. Neither of you wanted her to be alone as finals week loomed around the corner.
Immediately, you text back—worried something had occurred.
You What happened?
Mydei Nothing concerning her, don’t worry. Just some stuff at the office came up. It’s quite a gruesome scene of documents and images and I’d just rather she not see that You Alright, no problem. She can hang out in my office or here in the lecture with my TA. Mydei You’re teaching right now? I can have Phainon take her if you’re too busy. You No, it’s okay. It’ll be easier for us when we go home, too. Mydei Alright. We’ll be there in 10. 15, if she wants to get food. [ haha ] reacted by You
…
“Can anyone tell me what the derivative of this is?” you ask as you finish writing on the whiteboard.
Coincidentally, the bell rings at that moment and you laugh at your students who breathe a sigh of relief.
“Alright class, hahaha, let’s circle back to this next week, reminders that your final projects are due next month—so please make progress on it. Your weekly exam is already posted online and will be due this Sunday. We will not be having a final exam so do well on your project outputs. See you all next week.”
While your students trickle out the door, a familiar face pokes her head in the door.
“Hi, Mom!” she greets and runs through the door, tackling you in a hug.
“Hello, sweetheart,” you press a kiss into her hair, looking up to see Mydei walking in.
“I’m really sorry to drop her off like this,” he tells you, running a hand through his bangs, his low ponytail in a bit of a frazzled state. It was obvious the case in his hands had gotten him shaken up. Yet, Mydei seemed composed if anything.
You wave him off, letting your daughter go so she could set up her books and iPad beside your Teaching Assistant—Polites.
“It’s no problem, besides, I’ll be going home after this next class. It’d save us both the trouble.”
He nods and fishes out his phone from his pocket, answering a message before it rings.
“Ah, I gotta go, I’ll see her for pickup next week. Bye, sweetheart!” He calls out to her before he rushes to take the call outside.
…
It’s only when you’re in the car and on the way home that your daughter tells you a very interesting and mildly concerning piece of information—interesting for you, and you being mildly concerned for Mel’s reaction to it.
“A client came over to Dad earlier.”
“Mh?” You answer absentmindedly, focused on switching lanes to not miss your exit.
“She was all up in his personal space, Mom, I swear, even I was uncomfortable watching them, and Dad wasn’t making that face he always makes when he wants to strangle Uncle Phai and he has to be polite because we’re in a public place. No, Mom, he was polite and smiling.”
Your attention splits and your brows furrow. That wasn’t like Mydei at all. He’d usually have no problem telling someone to respect his personal space—even if it was a client.
“Maybe he was just trying to be respectful, honey,” You reasoned with her as you took a right turn, turning off the blinker after you did.
Mel shakes her head at you, her hair and braid shaking as she did so, “Mom, that’s not even what I wanted to tell you—that’s just the context.”
You raise your eyebrow at her dramatic storytelling tendencies, “Go on…?”
“Mom, Dad turned her advances down and told her he was married.”
You let out a chuckle at that, you’d long given up on making it work with Mydei. You’d hoped that years after the divorce, he’d snap out of it and get his life together and win you and Mel back, but that was too far-fetched of a fantasy even for you.
“It’s just an excuse, sweetheart. I know what you’re trying to imply and your father definitely does not see me that way anymore.”
She sighed dramatically, “But Mom! I swear, if you were there you would’ve seen the look in his eyes.”
You actually snort at that, “You little missy, have been reading too many romance books. I gotta tell your Dad to limit your spending at Jayce and Viktor’s (this fic’s version of Barnes and Noble lol).”
“W-huh? Mom, you wouldn’t!”
You just laughed at your daughter.
…
Later that night you texted Mydei, making good on your promise to ask him to limit her budget on romance books. You fear your daughter might get too swept up in book romance and forget that real-life guys should be straightforward—none of that ‘playing hard-to-get’ game they try to play. Girls should be the one doing that, not the men.
You Mel told me something today.
Within seconds, the typing bubble already appeared.
Mydei I already told her not to tell you and it was an excuse, I swear.
Ah.
You Yeah, I figured. No worries. She’s been reading too many novels, I think… Mydei Oh.
It stays silent for a few moments.
Mydei Got it. I’ll lessen our trips to JnV’s. I’ll probably take her somewhere else that doesn’t involve romance books, huh? What do you think she’d enjoy other than the sports center? You Please don’t bring her to the sports center anymore. I will actually be sighing constantly if she picks up another sport. I’m worried she’ll injure herself again. Mydei My thoughts exactly. I was thinking of maybe bringing her to a farm or something. Let her run around a field. You I’m raising an eyebrow at you right now. [ haha ] reacted by Mydei Do you think our daughter is a dog? TT Mydei Hey, it’s what my Mom did to me as a kid to burn off all my stress and energy. You Mydei, please do not. Mydei Got any ideas?
You think about it for a little while, then you get a few.
You You could teach her how to bake? Or to cook, as long as you don’t leave her long enough to burn the kitchen down… Mydei That’s actually helpful. I’ll do that, thank you. You Make sure she won’t burn your house or herself down. Mydei Copy that. [ <3 ] reacted by You
…
It’s a few weeks after that talk—during Mydei’s turn of the custody exchange—that Mel updates you with a video. You take a break from grading the final projects and watch.
“Okay, okay, wait, Dad, don’t start yet!”
The camera shakes as she fumbles with the phone, propping it up against what you later find out is a jar of flour, “I need to film this. Mom’s soooo gonna be proud of me when she sees how good these turn out.”
It turns out, Mydei actually did try to teach her how to bake to spend more time with her and give her something to do to burn off her energy—while increasing her dopamine when she accomplishes something.
You hear him huff from beside her as he comes into the frame—tying an apron around his waist, “If yours turn out bad, do not blame me,” He jokes.
“Excuse me?” she gasps dramatically, “I am the creative director here.”
“You’re the one who almost set the toaster on fire last month.”
“That was one time!”
He snorts, but there’s a softness in it now. An ease that wasn’t there years ago.
“Hands washed?” he asks.
Mel rolls her eyes but holds them up anyway, “Yes, Dad.”
“Properly?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Show me.”
“Okay, now you’re just being annoying—”
“Melina.”
She groans but trudges to the sink again.
And later—when the kitchen smells like sugar and something slightly overbaked, when flour dusts the counter and her cheek, when she laughs at how lopsided their cupcakes look—She sends you a picture.
Honey [image] we cooked !!! well… baked LOLL they lowk look ugly but taste good I PROMISE ILL BRING SOME HOMEE
And then a few minutes later, to which you assume the pause is because she started snacking, she sends another message.
Honey Dad said I didnt even burn anything im so proud of myself !!!!
You stare at the photo longer than you should.
At the messy kitchen island, flour everywhere, metal and glass bowls still sitting on the counter, countless utensils in the sink, and the fridge left ajar.
At the uneven frosting on the cupcakes, some dripping on the island, some out of the cupcake liners.
At him, behind her—slightly out of focus, but there. Smiling.
You don’t realize you’re smiling too until your cheeks hurt.
…
Towards the end of the year, your students mention their siblings are applying for colleges now and that they would love to let them have you as a professor. The compliment makes you think about Mel and where she’d be applying for college in the summer.
You hadn’t really had the chance to talk with her about it. With her getting busier with her sports and extracurriculars and with you trying to improve your syllabus for the next term, you and Mel only spend time at home and when she needs help with her homework.
For a lack of information, you decide to text Mydei if he knows anything about it since Mel is in his custody this week.
You Has Mel told you where she’s applying yet? Mydei No. Has she told you? You Nope. Mydei We should be concerned. You We are concerned. I just don’t know if she’ll apply to Okhema U or maybe GoE. Mydei I’ll ask her tonight. Maybe she’ll apply to Gibranipar U, like we did? You It’s Garbaniphoro now, don't forget. Also.. Don’t interrogate her. Mydei I don’t interrogate? You You’re literally a lawyer. Mydei Unfair. [ haha ] reacted by You
…
The day Mel’s supposed to switch back to yours, Mydei is called into a meeting into the office. Something about a client requesting him, specifically. When he explains this to Mel, she grimaces in discomfort.
Mydei picks up on this—but not for the reason he thinks it’s for.
“Sorry, honey. It’ll be quick, I promise,” he reassures her, “I’ll go over some parts of the contract with her, then we can get a sweet treat at The Orchard before we go drop you off to your Mom’s, okay? How does that sound?”
The girl all but shrugs, fixating on the fact that her Dad said ‘her’ and feeling queasy.
Mydei ruffles her hair, “Alright, go pack up your stuff, we’ll leave in an hour.”
…
Melina sits on a desk in view of Mydei’s office—he put her there so he could see her at all times, and she could see him—earbuds in, pretending to study and do her homework, but she’s watching her Dad and his female client.
The woman across his desk leans in too close, laughs too easily, touches his arm like it’s nothing, and it makes Mel narrow her eyes.
That’s definitely not how clients should act.
And the worst part of it all, is her Dad doesn’t react the way she expects. He doesn’t lean away dramatically, doesn’t snap—He just… shifts slightly and doesn’t do anything about it.
It… unnerves her. Like watching them feels… wrong. It shouldn’t be—they’re technically not doing anything bad, but her mind does nothing to dissuade the uneasiness in her guts—like the feeling that she ate something that didn’t sit right with her digestive system. The whole thing doesn’t sit right with her.
Then she hears the woman giggle through the glass.
“What is so funny that she has to laugh so loud and high-pitched?” she whispers to herself as she turns her attention back to her AP Geography homework.
And then she hears her Dad speak.
“Let’s keep this discussion relevant to your case,” he says evenly.
The woman speaks like she has a pout in her voice, “You’re no fun.”
“I’m not here to be.”
Mel fights the urge to snort.
It does little to lift the uneasiness in her stomach, but she’s glad her Dad is being professional about it.
…
Later, in the car, she squints at him.
“You know she was flirting with you, right?” she tells him, looking directly at him as he fumbles with the seatbelt and looks for his parking ID.
He gives her not much emotion about it, not even a raised eyebrow like he always does, “I’m aware. Put your seatbelt on.”
Mel huffs, quickly pulling her seatbelt on and facing him again, “And?”
“And nothing.”
She looks at him in disbelief, and tilts her head, “Dad.”
He sighs, knowing she won’t let this go until he answers all of her questions and complaints, “Mel.”
She crosses her arms and it reminds him of you.
“You didn’t even look annoyed!” Mel starts to gesture wildly with her hands now.
“I was working,” He stresses and puts both hands on the wheel.
She studies him for a minute. In silence.
Then she deflates and looks out her side of the window—arms still crossed, not even looking at him anymore.
Mydei doesn’t know what to tell her—how to reassure her that it really isn’t like that. The client is just a client, and that…
That he…
…
He still loves you.
But before he can even articulate any of his thoughts properly and move his mouth to speak, he hears her sniffle.
Then mutters—“Mom would’ve done something instead of just letting it happen.”
He stills, just for a second.
It sinks into him, then.
He did let it happen.
Mydei starts the engine.
…
It’s a very quiet ride home.
When Mydei asks Mel what she wants from The Orchard, she shrugs and tells him to get whatever he feels like. Eyes not meeting his and instead focused on her phone—texting who he saw was Phainon.
He sighs and tells her he’ll get her a strawberry cream cheese danish. If she has any indication that that’s what she wanted, she never gives it, and Mydei is left to order something for Mel, him, and you when he gets to your house.
He picks up a treat for Phainon, too, when he realizes Mel might’ve asked him to come over.
Mydei is no stranger to this. He’s dealt with Mel’s stubborness—something she got from both of you, and anger more times than he can count. And the best solution? Wait for her to be okay enough to talk about it.
He knows she’ll talk to him about it when she’s ready.
It’s something you’ve both taught her from a young age. She just needs to feel it out and gather her thoughts together before she tries to confront the problem she has.
If her eating the danish on the way to your house was any clue, he’d say he and Mel are doing just fine.
…
Phainon lets you know through text that he’s coming over as per the request of his favorite niece through text.
Most Annoying Brother Ever <3 I’m coming over. You ??? Why?? Not that you’re not welcome… It’s just so completely random. Most Annoying Brother Ever <3 My favorite niece has told me she requests my presence. You … Phainon, she's your only niece. Most Annoying Brother Ever <3 I know. Obviously, she’s gonna be my favorite. Duh. You (eyeroll emoji) Whatever, get me a drink while you’re out. Most Annoying Brother Ever <3 (eyeroll emoji) Fineee. [ <3 ] reacted by You
…
To your surprise, he gets there earlier than Mydei and Mel get home, which really confuses you since he lives 25 minutes away, and he was able to get you the drink you wanted.
“Do you know why she’s asking for you?” You poke at him as you lounge on the couch behind him, sipping your drink as he flips through the TV channels with the remote.
“See, I would tell you, but that would render me a traitor to the Cool Uncle Club.”
You roll your eyes, “You’re sooo corny.”
Phainon flashes you a smile, “You can’t trick me with that anymore. You may be my little sister, but my cool status comes first.”
Finally, he settles on a channel that’s showing Andrew Garfield’s The Amazing Spiderman, and you both get quiet.
Then you lean against him a little more, your head resting against his shoulder.
“Hey, Phai?”
“Mh?”
“Thanks for always being there for Mel,” you murmur, “and for me.”
Your brother huffs out an amused smile, “Always.”
Just then you hear the honk of Mydei’s car—a signal you both gave out to let the other know you were there. You stood from the couch to open the door only to see your daughter already approaching.
“Hi, Honey. I missed you,” you say as she buries herself in your embrace.
“I missed you, too, Mom. Is Uncle Phai here already?” she pulls away, asking.
You jerk your head softly towards the living room, “He’s in there, what happened, you okay?”
She nods absentmindedly, “Yeah, Mom. Don’t worry about it.”
Mel then pivots to greet her Uncle and gives him a hug, “I’ll be down in a minute, let me just change my clothes.”
You exchange a look with Phainon as he shrugs, not knowing why she’s in such a rush to get out of the house. It’s at that moment that Mydei’s trunk slams shut and he appears in the doorway holding Melina’s luggage.
Quietly, he hands over her stuff and a paperbag from The Orchard.
You thank him and go to put it away in the kitchen before you ask, “Did… anything happen?”
Mydei stays quiet for a moment—like he’s debating whether or not to tell you, his hands fidgeting with the bracelet on his left arm, a nervous habit he never got rid of.
“Mydei?” you ask again.
Yet, before he can even answer, your daughter comes down the stairs and straight to Phainon.
“C’mon, Uncle Phai,” she tugs him up by her arm and your brother easily relents, telling her to slow down, there’s no rush.
Your eyes flit towards her father and you can obviously see it in his eyes that something happened. You watch as he chews on his bottom lip, like he’s trying to say something but is holding back from doing so.
“Aren’t you even going to say bye to your dad?” Phainon asks, making Melina stop in her tracks, three steps away from Mydei.
The air is charged with something you can’t quite name.
Then slowly, lacking enthusiasm, Mel hugs him and you hear a muffled, “Bye, Dad, see you next week.”
Mydei’s arms curl around her almost instantly, one hand petting the crown of her head, “See you next week, sweetheart…”
And that was it.
Phai then leaves with her dragging him out of the house—telling you he’ll bring her home before nine because it’s a weekend after all, with her hollering a different tone of goodbye to you, telling you she and Phai will be safe.
Leaving you and Mydei standing inside the house.
…
Mel doesn’t talk to her uncle at first. They walked around aimlessly to the park at first—Phainon asked her if she wanted him to drive them somewhere but she shook her head, asking if they could walk around instead.
Your brother was all too reminded of the way you’d walk around with him when you were young to refuse.
At the 30-minute mark, he suggested they get ice cream like they always do—her’s pomegranate-flavored and his would be caramel and vanilla, and she only nodded, still not talking.
When they got the cold treats, he dragged her over to sit on a bench by the riverside, and just… waited. Phainon watched her quietly as she pokes at her ice cream instead of eating it.
“That bad?” he finally asks.
Mel shrugs.
“You usually finish that before I even sit down.”
She sighs, pushing the pink cream around, “Not hungry.”
He leans back on the bench, “I thought we already established years ago that you can’t lie to me? Try again.”
She sighs.
“They’re… fine,” she starts, “Mom and Dad.”
“That’s not what I asked, Meli.”
The girl presses her lips together.
“They’re good parents,” she insists, “like—really good. They show up, they talk, they don’t fight… They’re following my rules in the divorce, everything’s in place, everything’s good and steady…”
She trails off and Phainon waits.
“But it’s just…” she mutters, staring at her melting ice cream, “It just feels… wrong.”
His voice softens, “Wrong how?”
She swallows.
“Like… it’s almost right. But not really. Like when you make eggs a little too runny and you’re thinking, no—it’s okay, it’s been cooked under a fire, but you get the feeling that you might get salmonella. You know? Like, it’s supposed to be right, but it feels so… off.”
A pause.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”
Phainon sighs. He knew this day would come eventually, when the divorce would actually affect her in a way that she can fathom—not as a kid who only thought being a family was enough.
“Uncle Phainon?”
“Yeah?”
She sets her ice cream cup down on the bench and curls her fists in her lap, “Can you… Can you not tell Mom or Dad about this?”
Then she looks up at him, eyes teary and red—like she’s been holding them back. Looking the same way you did when you told him that you were divorcing Mydei and asking him if it was the right decision.
Phainon had always been weak towards you.
And with how Mel definitely inherited your crying face? He was weak towards her, too.
So he relents.
“Of course, kiddo.”
…
Back at your house, Mydei purses his lips and you just observe. When it starts to look like he’s going to turn and leave, you stop him.
“Still drink pomegranate juice?”
His gaze snaps to you, “What?”
“Pomegranate juice,” you repeat, “Melina got her preference for it from you, I guess—she’s always keeping a carton of it in the fridge. Do you want some while we talk about whatever that was?”
Mydei nods, low ponytail bobbing a bit as he does so.
“Take a seat.”
…
When you finally settle on the couch, you take a bite of the pastry he bought from The Orchard, “Okay, spill, what happened?”
And he does, Mydei talks so much, you think it’s the first time he’s talked to you face-to-face this long since you served him divorce papers. It baffles you, if you were being honest.
He lays out every detail from start to finish—leaving out the part where he can’t say that he still loves you. And when he ends, he deflates into the couch.
You sigh as you ponder over the information he just gave you and shake your head softly as you come to a realization.
“She’s scared you’ll find someone else, start a new family, and lose time for her.”
Mydei snaps back up, “No, no, I wouldn’t do that, I would never lose time for her, not again.”
Not again, the words echo in your mind.
You shrug, “That’s how she sees it.”
“It’s not like that!”
You put your hands up in the air in mock-surrender, “Hey, I know that because you told me just now. But you haven’t told her.”
Mydei sighs again, deeply this time.
You know exactly what he wants. Advice. A solution. A way to make your daughter understand that you were still going to be a family no matter what—even if her father might find someone else. You knew he wanted to know how exactly he would tell her that.
You murmur his name softly from across the couch and he responds with a tired, defeated “Mh?”
“Talk to her,” you urge, “maybe not now, since I’m sure Phai is taking her out of her bad mood and if you talk to her now, you’d probably just undo everything he did.”
He keeps quiet.
“She’s just a kid, Mydei. She’s just scared, you didn’t fuck up your relationship with her. You two will be fine as always.”
He exhales.
“I know.”
“You two will be fine.”
…
The following weeks were strangely quiet in a way that unsettled you more than any outburst ever could. Melina would come home from her father’s place with that same faraway look she used to have when the custody exchanges had just begun—back when she didn’t understand why she had to leave one home for another—only now, there were no tears, no protests, just a tightness in her smile and a heaviness in her silences.
It was subtle, easy to miss if you weren’t looking closely, but you were.
You always were.
You considered asking Mydei if he’d said something to her, if anything had happened, but something told you he was just as in the dark as you were.
So you tried asking her instead, but she only waved you off with a tired laugh, insisting it was just stress from college applications, nothing more, nothing to worry about. And you wanted to believe her. You really did.
But something was bugging you, so you texted Mydei again.
You Hey. Mel wants us to be at the Foundation Fair for her school. The family day thing, just like last year. Mydei Hey, yeah. I saw it on the school forum. I’ll be there. You Also… Have you noticed Mel’s been… off lately? Mydei Yeah. She’s been quieter. You She said it’s just application stress. Mydei Do you believe her?
You stare at the message longer than you should.
You I don’t know.
No message comes through for a moment.
Then the typing bubbles come up again, and—
Mydei We’ll keep an eye on her.
There’s a pause.
Mydei We’ve got her.
And for some reason, that steadies you more than it should.
…
It’s noisy at the Foundation Day’s Fair. Kids ran around everywhere, balloons of different colors strapped to their wrists. The student band playing had really cool live music.
You and Mydei arrived together, he picked you up from your office when Mel texted him that there was limited parking and it would be better if he picked you up to save time trying to find a space to park in.
She let you know through text as well that her Dad was coming to pick you up. Which to be completely honest, saved you the time of going home and parking your car then hailing a ride to her school.
The moment you got there, Mel was already waiting for both of you at the entrance, dragging you off to… well, everywhere. She rode on scary rides and insisted that you both ride with her. She asked Mydei to buy her cotton candy, win her prizes, and all the sort.
It made you smile, seeing how happy she was just to run around the fair with the two of you. Her weird attitude towards her Dad disappeared, and it was just like before. Like you were a family. It brought a warmth to your chest as you can only sigh in content as she enjoyed the day with you both.
Then she got hungry.
“Dad, please, I wanna eat nachos, please, please, please, please,” she repeated over and over, tugging at her father’s arm as his other carried all the prizes he won for her that afternoon while her other hand was looped around yours.
“You will eat real, actual food, Meli,” he replied.
“And then nachos?”
Mydei sighs in defeat, “Yes, and then nachos.”
The girl can only squeal in triumph.
When you got to the food caravans, you both told her to go find a seat somewhere for the three of you while you and Mydei ordered food—taking all her prizes with her.
You only shook your head in fondness when she asked if she could get ice-cream, too.
“She takes after your sweet tooth too much,” you jokingly scold Mydei and he raises his eyebrows, an amused smile on his lips.
“Please, like she didn’t get your taste for cold drinks?”
“Hey!” you swat him on the arm, “That’s a need in this weather, you know.”
“Uh-huh…” he nods like he believes you even though the grin on his face tells you he doesn’t buy it one bit.
…
From a few tables away, Mel had her eyes on the two of you—finding a seat in the cooler area of the venue. She saw the two of you talking and even laughing.
Even without the romance books, she knew that look in her Dad’s eyes.
There was something.
And then she hears it a few tables over, someone from the Parents’ Association was talking about the two of you, about her family.
“It’s a shame really, I mean, come on, Mydeimos Gorgo is a gorgeous man,” the voice starts, “The ex–wife isn’t that too bad looking either.”
What?
“But obviously, she’s done something wrong for them to divorce.”
Mel stays silent, she couldn’t believe someone would talk about her parents that way without even knowing the full story—actually, no! They shouldn’t talk about them like that at all!
Her eyes darted around, ears straining to hear where exactly the voice was coming from over all the noise.
Then another voice speaks.
“I don’t know whether to feel bad or embarrassed for them, I mean, they’re not even a real family anymore, why would they attend Foundation Day when it’s obviously known for being a family day? They’re just prolonging this charade for their daughter at this point.”
Melina stands up so abruptly that her chair scrapes the ground and the voice stops talking. She realizes the voice was coming from behind her all along—and the horrified look on the woman’s face when she sees that the daughter she was talking about was right there? Priceless.
But not enough to undo the damage.
“Next time, keep your comments to yourself,” she spits out before walking away.
…
It doesn’t take long for Mydei to notice your daughter missing.
The moment he scans the area when you finish ordering, he tells you immediately.
“Melina’s gone.”
Your attention takes a 180 and you scan around immediately, “What? Gone?”
Then Mydei spots the bag of prizes she had—now laying on a lonely table a few ways away and holds onto you to take you there.
“I’ll look for her, between you and me, we know I have better eyesight, I need you to be here in case Meli comes back, okay?” He tells you and you nod, panic steadily creeping up your back.
Mydei takes notice of this, places a hand behind your head, and pulls you in to place a kiss on top of your hair as he wraps a hand around you in a hug.
“I’ll find her, don’t worry,” he reassures, “I won’t let her slip away this time.”
You nod—still in a daze—still processing what the hell he just did, and watching as he walks away in search of your daughter. Phone in hand as you wait for any text that Mel might send you.
…
Just like it didn’t take long for Mydei to notice she was missing, it didn’t take him long to find her either.
He breathed a sigh of relief and texted you that he found your daughter, waiting for you to reply before pocketing his phone.
The field is loud in the way only campus events can be—whistles cutting through the air, laughter spilling over from picnic blankets, parents calling out to their kids with easy familiarity. It’s bright, full, and alive.
And somehow, that’s what makes it feel so quiet when Mydei finally spots her.
Melina sits alone on the bleachers, a few rows up, elbows on her knees, chin resting on clasped hands. She isn’t on her phone. IShe’s just picking at the skin beside her fingernails. Just… watching.
Watching the families gathered below, the ones that fit together without effort.
Mydei slows his steps.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything—just takes it in. The way her shoulders are slightly hunched. The way her gaze lingers a second too long on a father lifting his kid onto his shoulders, on a mother brushing grass off her son’s shirt.
He exhales quietly and walks up the steps.
The metal creaks softly under his weight, but she doesn’t turn.
He lowers himself beside her anyway.
Not too close. Just enough to give her space if she wants that, and enough that she can lean on him if she wants to. For a while, he lets the silence sit between them, lets the noise from the field fill the space instead.
Then, gently, he tries.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Melina blinks, like she hadn’t expected that, but shakes her head quickly, “No, Dad, you didn’t…” her voice falters, just slightly, “It’s just… I heard some people talking.”
Mydei hums, low and patient, eyes still forward, waiting for her to continue.
She shifts then, leans—just a little—until her shoulder presses against his arm. Not quite a hug. But close. It’s enough for Mydei.
And then it all spills out.
“You and Mom have been nothing but good to me,” she starts, words rushing over each other like she’s afraid she’ll lose them if she slows down, “you both didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just…”
Her voice wavers.
She swallows hard, shoulders trembling like she’s holding herself together by sheer will.
“It’s me.”
Mydei’s arm comes around her without hesitation, pulling her closer, anchoring her to him and Melina presses her face into his side, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve.
“I feel like it’s wrong,” she admits, the words muffled but heavy, “I know you and Mom divorced years ago, I know that, I get it, I should be over it, but—” her breath stutters, “—but here, today, it just feels like…”
She squeezes her eyes shut.
“Like we’re not really a family.”
The words land heavier than anything else.
“Like we’re just… pretending. Like we’re faking it for me.”
Mydei’s chest tightens.
He doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t correct her.
He just listens.
“And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” she continues, voice cracking now, slipping past the point of control, “because I am happy, I am, I swear, but then I see them and it just—” she chokes on the rest, shaking her head against him.
“It feels wrong that we’re not like that.”
A pause.
A breath.
And then—
“Why can’t you and Mom try again?”
Mydei stills.
For a moment, the world narrows down to just that question.
His throat tightens and the corners of his eyes sting. He takes a moment and inhales slowly, deeply—like he’s bracing himself against something unseen.
When he speaks, his voice is quieter than before, rougher, like it pains him to try to answer it—because it does.
Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?
“Meli…”
She doesn’t look up.
So he continues anyway.
“From the moment I lost you and your mom… I never found anyone else.”
Her grip on his sleeve tightens.
“It’s always been her for me,” he admits, the words sitting heavy on his tongue like something long kept in, “there wasn’t anyone after. There isn’t anyone now. There won’t be anyone else.”
He lets out a small, breathless exhale.
“That woman you saw at the office—she meant nothing. Truly. I was just doing my job.”
Melina sniffles, but she’s listening.
“I love your mom,” he says, more firmly now, even if it costs him something to admit it out loud, “I still do.”
A beat.
“But…” his voice dips, quieter, “I don’t think I’m right for her anymore.”
Mel pulls back just enough to look at him.
Really look.
And then—smack.
Her hand hits his bicep. Not hard, but definitely not gentle.
“If you love her, then tell her that!” she bursts out, eyes still wet, frustration cutting through the tears, “You can’t just decide that for her, Dad!”
Mydei blinks, caught off guard.
“Meli—”
“No!” she cuts him off, shaking her head, “You always do that! You just… decide things on your own and don’t even ask! That’s probably why you ended up here in the first place!”
That one lands heavily.
It makes him wince.
She sniffles again, wiping at her face with the back of her hand, breathing uneven but steadier now that it’s all out.
For a moment, neither of them speak.
Then slowly…
Mydei exhales.
A small, almost helpless smile tugs at his lips, “…Okay.”
Melina frowns, “Okay?”
“I’ll tell her,” he says, softer this time, “I’ll… try again.”
She searches his face like she’s making sure he means it.
Then, she nods.
They fall into silence again, but it’s different now, lighter, like something that had been pressing down finally shifted. The wind picks up slightly, brushing against their faces still sticky with tears.
Mel leans against him again, this time without hesitation.
Mydei glances down at her, then sighs quietly.
“You know,” he starts, tone shifting just enough, “we really have to limit your book purchases at JnV’s.”
Mel groans immediately “Oh, be quiet, Dad.”
And just like that she sounds like herself again.
…
Whatever happened on those bleachers, neither of them told you.
Melina came back first, eyes a little red, nose still pink from sniffling, but smiling softly, like something inside her had finally settled. Mydei followed a few steps behind, expression calmer than you’d seen it in weeks, the usual tension in his shoulders eased just enough to notice.
You didn’t ask.
You didn’t need to.
There are some things a parent learns to recognize without words—and the way Mel slipped her hand into his sleeve for a second before letting go, the way he rested his palm briefly against her head as he passed by—you could make a pretty good guess.
Whatever it was, it helped.
The strange distance that had crept in over the past few weeks seemed to dissolve after that day. Mel laughed more, talked more. Fell back into that easy rhythm between the two of you, and with him. The quiet heaviness that had followed her around finally lifted, replaced with something lighter. Something closer to how things used to feel.
Things were good.
Melina ended up applying to The Grove of Epiphany University in the end, where Phai went—after weeks of deliberation, second-guessing, and late-night rambling about pros and cons that changed every other day.
When she finally told you and Mydei, she looked… proud and certain.
“That’s a good school,” you told her, squeezing her shoulder.
Mydei nodded, something unreadable flickering across his face before it softened, “Your grandmother would’ve liked that.”
Mel tilted her head, “Grandma Gorgo?”
He hummed, “She always wanted me to go there.”
“You didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” he agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “We went to—” he paused, frowning slightly like he was trying to recall it properly, “Gibranipar—no, wait—”
“Garbaniphoro,” Mel corrected immediately, grinning.
“Right. That one,” he said dryly.
She snorted.
You found yourself smiling too.
It was easy, in moments like that, to forget everything that came before.
…
It’s one of those quiet evenings during your week with Mel.
Nothing particularly special—just the hum of your home settling into the night, papers half-graded on your desk, your phone lighting up every now and then with notifications you don’t feel like checking yet.
Until it buzzes again.
You glance down.
Honey Imma be sleeping over at uncle phai’s !! for movie night 😎 Pls say yes
You smile, shaking your head slightly.
You Don’t stay up too late. Honey no promises THABKU LOVEU [ <3 ] reacted by You
You let out a soft huff and set your phone down—only to pick it up again a moment later, already opening your messages with Phainon.
You Is this true or is she plotting something?
It doesn’t take long for him to reply.
Most Annoying Brother Ever <3 Wow… no trust. I'm hurt. [ haha ] reacted by You No, yeah it’s true, I invited her over. I’ll pick her up from school in a bit. [ <3 ] reacted by You You Alright. Have fun, just keep her alive please. [ <3 ] reacted by Phainon Most Annoying Brother Ever <3 No guarantees. [ ?! ] reacted by You
You roll your eyes, but there’s a fondness in it.
You set your phone down again, and a few minutes later, it lights up once more.
Mydei She texted you too?
You blink, then pick it up.
You Yep.
There’s a pause.
Just long enough for you to think the conversation’s over.
Then—
Mydei Can I see you?
You freeze.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard, unmoving.
Almost six years.
Six years of schedules, of updates, of polite conversations that begin and end with Melina at the center of them.
And this… This is the first time he’s asked for something that isn’t about her.
The cursor blinks.
Waiting.
You What is this about, Mydei?
There’s a pause. Longer than usual. Long enough for your chest to tighten in a way you don’t want to acknowledge.
Mydei It’s important.
You stare at the message.
Important.
Your fingers hover again, hesitation curling at the edges of your thoughts. Somewhere deep down, something stirs—something you buried months ago, something fragile and dangerous and entirely unwelcome.
Hope.
You press your lips together.
No.
You’ve already made peace with this. With him. With what you are now.
You shouldn’t.
And yet.
You Okay.
…
He arrives twenty minutes later, ringing your doorbell with a bag of ingredients slung over his shoulder like this is just another normal night. Like he hasn’t just tilted something off balance with a single message.
You stand at the door and he stands there, staring right back at you.
“…Hi.”
“Hi…”
God, it’s awkward.
You step aside anyway, letting him in.
He moves through the house like he remembers it—like muscle memory guides him more than thought. Straight to the kitchen. His kitchen.
Just like he used to.
Before…
You linger by the doorway for a moment before closing it and following after him. He’s already unpacking the bag, pulling out ingredients, setting them down with quiet efficiency. You lean against the counter, watching as he does so.
“You didn’t change anything in the kitchen,” he comments, taking note that it looked just like how he customized it.
You shrugged, “Didn’t have the chance to back then, you know. I never really set foot in here until maybe a year after it all.”
He keeps quiet about it and starts to wash the ingredients.
“Now, I don’t really see a reason to change it, I don’t think there’s a need to.”
Mydei takes a look at you and hums, “I see.”
“…Did you just come here to cook?” you ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice, “Is that the important part?”
He huffs softly, not quite amused.
“No,” he mutters, focusing a little too hard on chopping, “I’m… working up the courage to say it. Okay?”
You blink.
Mydei? Working up courage?
That’s… new.
“…Okay,” you say slowly.
You don’t push.
Instead, you give him space—moving back to the island where your papers are spread out, laptop open, red pen in hand. You sit, trying to focus on grading, but your eyes keep drifting up to him, sneaking glances every now and then.
And every now and then, his eyes drift back to you.
It’s quiet.
Not uncomfortable, exactly.
Just… charged.
Like something is waiting to happen and neither of you knows when it’ll break.
…
“I’m almost done,” he says eventually.
You blink, snapping out of your thoughts.
“Oh, okay.”
You stand, moving automatically, grabbing plates, setting them on the table. The motions come easy, it’s familiar. Pause. Too familiar, actually… It feels… domestic.
Again.
And yet—there’s something different now. Something cautious. Like the two of you are circling each other, careful not to step too close too fast. Like you’re both trying to test how far the other is letting this go on for.
You decide you’ll wait for his move. The ball is in his court and it’s his turn to do something.
But for now, you sit, he serves, and you’ll both eat.
The lasagna comes out of the oven still bubbling at the edges, the surface a perfect, blistered gold where the cheese has melted and browned just enough to crisp. The smell hits first—rich, slow-cooked tomato, garlic softened into sweetness, a deep savory warmth that wraps around you before you even take a bite. When he cuts into it, the layers give way with a soft, satisfying slide—tender sheets of pasta, velvety bechamel, and a thick, meaty ragu that’s been simmered long enough to taste like time itself.
Steam curls up from the slice on your plate, carrying that same intoxicating aroma, and when your fork sinks in, it’s almost effortless. The first bite is warm in a way that settles deep in your chest—the cheese stretching slightly before melting on your tongue, the sauce rich and full, balanced with just a hint of acidity that keeps it from being too heavy. It’s indulgent, comforting, and familiar.
It tastes like something made with patience.
Like something made for someone specific.
Like home.
“This is really good,” you compliment with a smile, “I haven’t had your cooking in years.”
He pauses mid-bite and raises a brow, “…I’ve been packing food for Melina to bring home,” he says slowly, “What do you mean?”
Oh.
You wince, shrugging a little. You couldn’t tell him that you couldn’t stomach the thought of his cooking back then, because you were… you were angry. At him. But that was back then, therapy had made you come to terms with these feelings, so you try to pivot the conversation back into a safe area.
“I just thought they were for her specifically,” you say lightly, like it doesn’t matter, “You know… I’m not your responsibility anymore.”
The silence after that is so thick and heavy it’s as if the air’s been knocked out of the room.
“Myd—” you try to start and he interrupts you quietly with your name on his lips.
You immediately backtrack, “Hey, it’s okay, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just—”
“It was always for you.”
You stop.
You blink.
He’s looking at you now.
Really looking.
“I cooked extra because I knew you’d be there,” he continues, voice tight, “I just thought… I thought you knew.”
You let out a small, nervous laugh, shaking your head, “It’s fine, I’ll—I’ll eat the next one you send, okay?”
He looks… pained, as you tell him that.
“I thought we were okay.”
“We are—”
“Then why does it feel like you’re avoiding me?” he cuts in, frustration slipping through, “I know we’re not… great, I know I fucked up, but I thought we were okay enough to… to—”
He trails off and you sigh, rubbing your temple.
“Mydei,” you say softly, “why did you come here tonight?”
That stops him.
Completely.
For a moment, he just sits there.
Then he exhales and something shifts.
“I didn’t fight for you.”
The words hit you like a blow.
Your heart stutters.
“…What?”
“When you gave me the papers,” he continues, voice low, steady only by force, “I didn’t fight you. I didn’t ask you to stay. I didn’t even try.”
You shake your head slightly, “Mydei—”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says, a bitter edge creeping in, “I thought… if you were unhappy enough to leave, then the least I could do was not make it harder for you.”
Your chest tightens.
“I told myself it was respect,” he continues, “that I was respecting your decision. Your autonomy.”
He laughs dryly, “But really, I was just a coward.”
You stand up from your seat, the chair scraping off of the floor and you back up, “Don’t—”
“No,” he cuts in, sharper now, standing as he does so, “you don’t understand.”
You take a step back, “Don’t do this, Mydei.”
“Please—”
“No, please,” you echo, your voice breaking, begging, as months of therapy start to unravel at the seams, your heart bleeding out in your hands once again in this very kitchen, “please don’t do this.”
“It’s you,” he says, stepping forward.
You shake your head, another step back.
“It’s always, only ever been you.”
Your back hits the island.
You didn’t even realize you’d been retreating.
He’s there in front of you now.
Close—Too close.
“Despite everything,” he murmurs, voice dropping, hands coming up—hesitant at first, then certain and gentle as they cradle your face, “it’s still you.”
You feel dizzy.
Like the ground’s been pulled out from under you.
His forehead presses against yours. His scent flooding your senses.
The sensation too warm, too familiar, and eternally devastating.
“Please,” he whispers, breath uneven, “tell me what I have to do to win you back.”
Your vision blurs.
This is—This is everything you ever wanted.
For him to fight, to choose you, to try.
And now that he is—you don’t know what to do.
“I’m scared, Dei.”
The nickname slips out before you can stop it, and it breaks something in him.
You feel it.
The way he inhales sharply. The way his grip tightens just slightly.
“…I know,” he murmurs.
You shake in his hold, barely able to contain the tears that spill out from your eyes.
“How do I know it won’t end the same way?”
It’s barely a whisper, but it carries everything.
Every late night, every empty chair, every broken promise.
Mydei’s hand trembles as he brushes a tear from your cheek.
He leans in and presses a soft kiss against it.
“I won’t let it happen again,” he says, voice fierce despite the quiet, “I lost you once. I won’t—” his breath catches, “—I won’t let it happen again.”
His hand slips down, finding yours, intertwining your fingers.
He brings it up between your face as he looks up at you—despite being taller—and presses a kiss to your knuckles.
Gentle.
Reverent.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, “if you’ll have me.”
Your chest heaves, your eyes burn, and you nod.
Just once, but it’s enough.
He lets out a shaky laugh, the sound wet and broken.
He’s crying too.
You realize that distantly.
And then—softly—just like the first time.
“I, Mydeimos Gorgo, take you,” he continues, voice steadier now, like he’s anchoring himself in it, “to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
“I don’t have perfect words, I never did. But I know this—every version of my life that meant something had you in it. And every version without you… didn’t feel like mine.”
“I vow to come home to you—not just in place, but in heart. I vow to make space for you in every part of my life, the way I should have from the beginning.”
“You are not an afterthought. You never were. You are my first choice.”
“And if you let me again—I will keep choosing you. Every day. For the rest of my life.”
Your breath catches.
He remembered.
After everything—he remembered.
A breath.
“I do.”
“Do you,” he begins, voice trembling, “take me, Mydeimos Gorgo, as your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” you sob, nodding through tears, the words breaking on a hiccup.
He smiles at that and slips a ring you didn’t even know he had into your ring finger. His face soft as his heart remains aching.
“I know this may be sudden, but I think this is long overdue, what about you?”
Your hands come up, cupping his face like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.
You answer him by pulling him down and crashing your lips against his. Like you’re dying of thirst in the desert and he’s the only thing that can save you.
It feels the same.
God, it feels the same.
And that’s what breaks you.
You sob into the kiss, your fingers tightening against him, and he smiles—smiles—against your mouth, holding you like he’s afraid to let go.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours again and presses a soft kiss to your nose.
Your breathing is uneven. Your chest is aching. Your mind spinning from trying to process everything, but you feel lighter.
So much lighter.
“…Meli’s going to be ecstatic about this,” he murmurs.
And despite everything—you laugh.
…
Meli DAD UPDAET Plss im dying of anticipaton here Meli HEY DONT LEAVE ME ON DELIVEREED DADD !!! On nikador bro i swear u are taking So longgg read at 8:04 pm Meli HEY I SEE U READ IT Dad reply pls oh my strife Uncle phai and i are dying here Meli Give update to revive pls pls pls Dad [ sent a photo: ring in someone’s finger, hand covering her face as she’s leaning against someone’s clavicle ] Got her back. [ <3 ] reacted by Melina Meli THATS WHAT IM FUCKING TALKING ABOUT !!!! Dad Language. Meli God forbid a girl is happy she's no longer a child of divorce. [ haha ] reacted by Mydei
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Bonus scenes!
You Meli and I are on the way to the grocery store. Do you want anything? Dei <3 My beautiful wife and daughter home safe You Corny. [ <3 ] reacted by Mydei
…
Favorite Niece 5Ever Can u sneak me out and drive me to a party It starts at 11 On the 12th Pls pls pls u would be blessed with a gf w a big ass Coolest Unc 5Ever Girl what ?? Your mom AND dad will kill me. Favorite Niece 5Ever Soo is that a no…? Coolest Unc 5Ever If your mom catches me we are soo dead. Send me the addy. [ <3 ] reacted by Melina Favorite Niece 5Ever THX LUVYEW 5EVER !!!! [ <3 ] reacted by Phainon
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Mom Melina Hera Gorgo. Where are you. You are so grounded when you get home.
usagi's note: can u guys pretty please tell me what melina looks like for u guys PLEASEEE i begggg, anyway i have another mydei fic coming up soon, can u believe i did this in 2 days? me neither. i am so insane wtf. stream dawtde!
@usagiarchive 2025. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!
Girl, IM CRYINNNN WTHHHH THIS IS MAGNIFICENT 😭😭😭🫶 I LOVE THIS SMMMM 🥺🥺🥺
