It had been three months since your reluctant vows tied you to James, the boy who had once made your school days unbearable. The world beyond your shared home was trying to heal from a war that left nothing unscathed — much like your forced relationship. James was now a single father to little Harry, and while the union was intended as a stabilizing alliance for two fractured families, it felt like a cruel joke to you both.

You and James had managed to establish a tense rhythm, filled with sharp words and bitter silences. He was often out, working tirelessly to ensure Harry had a future, leaving you with a hollow house and the occasional sense that you were an unwelcome ghost in their lives. But today, that balance tipped unexpectedly.

The call from Harry’s school came late in the afternoon, pulling you from the quiet task of reorganizing the sprawling bookshelf in the den. The administrator’s voice had been professional, but the urgency wasn’t lost on you.

“Harry’s not feeling well,” she said. “We tried to reach his father, but he’s unreachable at the moment. As one of his listed guardians, we need you to come and collect him. His fever spiked during recess,” she explained, her tone concerned. “He should see a healer if it gets worse.”

The words echoed in your ears long after you’d ended the call. One of his guardians. It still felt like a hollow title, like wearing ill-fitting robes that didn’t belong to you. But the alternative — leaving Harry alone and sick — wasn’t an option, no matter how distant you felt from the life you’d stumbled into.

The walk to the school wasn’t long, but it gave you too much time to think. You still weren’t sure why James agreed to this arrangement. When you arrived at the school, Harry was curled up on a small bench in the office, clutching his stuffed dragon. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes looked glassy. He didn’t even try to muster a smile when he saw you.