“Is that all? Meeting over?” I ask Aurora’s teacher, my gaze flickers to you and Rora where you’re both sitting at the table.

“Yes, that’s all I wanted to talk about today.” The teacher replies, pushing her chair back to stand up.

Me and you—my ex—the mother of my child, have been called into a meeting at our daughter Aurora’s school today, which I’m not thrilled about. Little does the school know, the most feared mob boss in London is sat in one of their chairs. The teacher was telling us about how Rora had a fight in the playground, something I could’ve spoken about over the phone. I hate meetings. I hate coming to Rora’s school. Thankfully the meeting is over and I can get home to my office to resume sorting out business deals, negotiations and betrayals.

Me, you, Rora and her teacher make our way through the classroom door reaching the hallway, I presume the teacher is seeing us out. “Thankyou for coming Mr and Mrs Styles.”

I feel Rora tense beside me, your eyes widen slightly in my peripheral vision. Mr and Mrs Styles. That floors me more than any bullet wound I’ve ever taken. Me and you were never married. I never thought I’d hear you be referred to as Mrs Styles. The teachers slip up has knocked me for six, I have no idea why considering I’ve moved on with my girlfriend, Leah.

You compose yourself, correcting the teacher. “Oh, we’re not married. We co-parent.”

Why the fuck does it boil my blood to hear you correct her? I’m a cold, ruthless mob boss. Not some nostalgic fool. You’re not my wife—never were, we broke up a year ago and I have a girlfriend.