Ross kept watching Noah like a hawk. At lunch, Dean leaned over:
“You know, Em, you haven’t changed a bit since high school. Still gorgeous.”

I laughed. “Flattery won’t fix the dryer, but thanks.”

Ross stood. “Okay, this is getting out of hand.”

“Oh?” I said sweetly. “Like when Camille gave you a free haircut?”

Linda snapped. “Enough. I think these… experiments have gone too far.”

“Experiments?” I repeated, then pulled out my phone.

There it was — a picture of Linda’s open laptop. No password. Her notes titled:

“Potential Matches for Ross” — with the girls’ names, pros and cons, notes like “flirty,” “good with kids.”

Ross gaped.

“Mom… what the hell is this?”

She barely blushed. “It’s just a backup plan. Emily’s been… stretched thin.”

“Mom, that’s so rude!”

He turned to me. “Did you know?”

“Since yesterday. After your haircut and therapy session.”

Ross sighed. “That’s it. Everyone out.”

The girls left, stiffly. The guys waved, cheerful. Linda packed in silence.

Finally, the house was quiet.

Ross sank into the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For letting my mom take over. For not noticing what you do. For being distracted… and for not telling you how amazing you are.”

“You also forgot to compliment me.”

He laughed. “That too.”

Apology accepted.

“You were carrying everything,” he said. “And I didn’t want to face it.”

“Well, I’ve got some good news.”

“Yeah?”

“I got the promotion.”

His face lit up. “Seriously? Em, that’s incredible!”

I rested my head on his shoulder. The silence was different now — peaceful. For once, I didn’t feel like I was surviving.

I felt like I’d won.

And finally, I could breathe.