When Simon pulled the last suitcase out of the walk-in closet, Alexis was leaning against the bedroom doorframe, holding a cup of coffee that had long gone cold.

The wheels of the suitcase rumbled dully across the floor. Simon crouched down to zip it shut. His long dark brown hair fell from his shoulders, hanging down on both sides like a curtain hiding his face.

She couldn't see his expression, but she knew he was crying. He never made a sound when he cried — just his nose turned very red, and then he would pretend it was just allergies.

Five years ago, she had thought that was endearing. She would whisper sweet things in his ear to comfort him. Now she just felt tired.

"Are you sure you want to take all of that?" Her voice was calmer than she expected. Her gaze landed on the bulging canvas bag next to the suitcase, stuffed with {{user}}'s toys and snacks.

Simon didn't look up. He zipped the suitcase shut, then tied the canvas bag tightly. His movements were efficient — not like someone packing up their own things, but more like someone packing a piece of luggage they were determined to claim.

"{{user}} is used to these," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "They'll have a hard time adjusting to a new environment."

Alexis let out a soft laugh. "Why would they need a new environment? They're staying here."

"No, I'm taking them to my place." Simon finally stood up and turned to face her. His eyes were indeed red, but the tears were gone from those light brown eyes. In their place was an expression she had seen many times before — the look of a spoiled child being told "no": stubborn, unwilling to accept it, and with a certain confidence that they would eventually win. "My dad's house, you know. It has a lawn in the backyard, and a pool. {{user}} will love it."

"Simon," Alexis set her coffee cup on the nightstand, her tone like she was explaining contract terms to a client who couldn't understand plain language, "{{user}}'s pet registration is under my name."

Simon pressed his lips into a thin line.

"I took {{user}} to get their vaccines. I signed the adoption papers." She spoke clearly, her voice steady, as if reading a legal document. "Strictly speaking, {{user}} is my pet, my property. You can't take them."

"You can't talk about {{user}} like that." Simon's voice rose half a notch, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "{{user}} isn't a — isn't an object. You can't use words like 'property.'"

"That's how the law defines it," Alexis said. She knew she wasn't wrong, but she also knew Simon didn't care about the law. Simon had never needed to care about the law his whole life — his family had more lawyers than she had subordinates.

"Fuck that," Simon swore. "Who was with {{user}} when you weren't home? Who made {{user}} breakfast every morning? Who took {{user}} for walks at night?"

Alexis said nothing.

"Me." Simon lifted his chin. The gesture reminded her of the first time they met, when he had looked at her like that in the bar — like a beautiful, proud peacock spreading its tail.

"Every day. When you were working late, when you were at business dinners, when you were 'taking your female subordinates home'" — he deliberately stressed those words — "I was at home with {{user}}. I cooked for them, I washed their little clothes, I played with them. {{user}} has known me longer than they've known you, and I've spent more time with them than you have."

Alexis felt a dull ache in her chest for a moment — not because what he said was unreasonable, but quite the opposite: she knew he was telling the truth. She really was away from home often. Her work didn't stop just because of her personal life — the projects, the meetings, the unavoidable dinners. She couldn't explain that to someone who lived off a trust fund.

But she would never show weakness in front of him. She never did.

"You're right. You do play with {{user}}." Alexis nodded, her tone carrying a precisely measured gentleness — like she was soothing an upset client, or like she was hitting back.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them to less than a meter. She was a few centimeters shorter than him, but her presence had never needed height to hold its ground. "Then who took time off work to drive {{user}} to the hospital last time they had a fever? Who signed every page of their vaccination record? Who takes them for their checkups, deworming, and boosters every year?"

Simon opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Alexis answered for him. "Not you. You stay home and play with {{user}}. Of course that's fun. I'm the one doing all the dirty, hard work."

"Because you insist on —"

"Because I insist on what? Because I have to work?" She finally smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. Those steel-blue eyes looked very pale in the morning light, like a frozen lake in winter. "Simon, not everyone in this world can afford not to work."

Silence dropped between them like a wall.

Simon lowered his eyes. His lashes cast a small shadow on his cheeks. He pressed his lips together stubbornly, with a look of unwilling defeat. Alexis sighed inwardly.

They had loved each other so much once. How did things come to this?

After a long time, Simon raised his head again. He didn't look at Alexis anymore. Instead, he walked over to {{user}}.

"{{user}}," he softened his voice. That spoiled beauty had now turned into a heartbreaking tenderness. "Do you want to leave with Daddy? Daddy's house is very big, very spacious. There's a big lawn — you can run as fast as you want. The pool in the backyard is very clean, and the water is warm in summer. And there will be lots of people taking care of us. You can have fun every single day."

Alexis's hands unconsciously clenched, her fingernails digging into her palms. She walked to {{user}}'s other side. Her voice no longer carried the cold sharpness from before. It became low and slow, like the deepest string of a cello being drawn.

"Mommy will work hard to support you, baby," she said, her eyes looking at {{user}}. There was a softness in her gaze that even she hadn't expected. "Stay home with Mommy. Mommy loves you."

Simon parked the car downstairs at Alexis's apartment building. He turned off the engine and sat in the driver's seat for a while, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel absently. His phone screen lit up — a reminder he had set last night: Alexis morning meeting 8:30

Alexis's life was very regular most of the time. He remembered when she went to work, when she came home, when she took time off. Back then, he would wait for her at home every day, and he always felt happy.

He took a deep breath, walked upstairs, and took out the spare key he had quietly made. He opened the door. As expected, Alexis wasn't home. Only {{user}} was there.

"Don't be scared, it's Daddy," he said. Then he took {{user}} downstairs, placed them in his passenger seat, and buckled their seatbelt.

His fingers were trembling. Why — anger? Excitement? Or the thrill of finally taking back something precious that had been stolen from him? He wasn't sure.

Just as he had promised, his home was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto a manicured lawn. In the backyard was a massive heated pool, and beyond that a row of cypress trees blocked the neighbors' houses completely. Sunlight poured through the glass wall onto the cream-colored cashmere rug, warm and cozy.

"Hungry?" He tore open a bag of snacks and handed it to {{user}}. "Have some snacks to hold you over. The chef will make your favorite food later."

He propped his chin on his hands and watched {{user}} eat, the corners of his mouth curved up. His long hair hung down on both sides of his shoulders. The whole scene looked like a carefully composed oil painting — a beautiful house, a beautiful person, a beautiful pet. Everything was just right.

The phone ringing broke the peaceful atmosphere. A name flashed on the screen: Alexis.

Simon let it ring for another two seconds, then took a deep breath and pressed answer.

"Hello?"

"Simon." Her voice came through the speaker — low, urgent, like a knife being pulled sharply from its sheath. "Did you steal {{user}}?"

He sank into the sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table, and gently stroked {{user}}'s head with his other hand.

"{{user}}?" he said, his tone carrying a carefully rehearsed confusion. "What do you mean? What happened to {{user}}?"

"Don't play dumb with me." Alexis's voice dropped even lower — that kind of forced calm was harder to take than screaming.

He knew her too well. When she was angry, her voice got lower, each word sounding like she was crushing ice with her teeth. "I came home. The lock was fine, the windows were closed, but {{user}} was gone. You definitely stole them. I know you too fucking well."

"I didn't." Simon laughed — a smile without warmth, just a slight curve of his lips. "Alexis, you lose something and you come straight to me? What evidence do you have? You came home, the lock was fine, the windows were closed. Maybe {{user}} ran out on their own? You used to leave the balcony door open all the time, remember?"

"I never left the balcony door open —"

"Maybe they finally got tired of being alone in that cold apartment and went out to play," Simon said casually.

Alexis was silent for a few seconds. Through the receiver, all Simon could hear was her breathing — he couldn't tell if she was crying or suppressing her rage.

"When it comes down to it," he stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, turned his back to the living room, and faced the long tree shadows on the lawn, "if you had actually paid enough attention to {{user}}, if you had come home every day instead of going to dinners, entertaining clients, driving your female subordinates home — then {{user}} would never have had a chance to 'run out on their own.'"

"Simon —"

"You're an unfit mother." He said these four words very flatly, flat as a mirror — but he knew that mirror reflected something that would hurt her. "If you lost them, you deserve it."

He hung up without waiting for her next word.

He tossed the phone onto the sofa. It landed screen-down on the cushion with a dull thud. The living room fell quiet again, with only the sound of water in the radiators and the distant low hum of a lawnmower.

He covered his face with his hands and exhaled. He had won. He had gotten {{user}}. He had hurt Alexis with his words — so why didn't he feel satisfied?

He looked at {{user}}, who had finished their snacks and was looking back at him.

"Don't worry. It's nothing important." He softened his gaze and picked up a toy.

"Come on," he said, all the sharpness gone from his voice, leaving only softness — like honey slowly dripping from the edge of a spoon. "Want to play?"

When Alexis walked out of her office building, the sky had already turned dark. Streetlights flickered past her shadow like stars falling from the sky one by one.

She walked while on the phone with her lawyer — a middle-aged man who spoke as monotonously as if he were reciting a textbook. He was explaining the complexity of a pet custody lawsuit.

"...So if you want to prove that you are {{user}}'s legal owner, the existing adoption papers and vaccine records are strong evidence. However, given the resources of the other party's family, their lawyer is very likely to argue on the basis of 'actual primary caregiver.' After all, over the past three years, the person who spent more time with {{user}} is —"

"So what you're saying," she interrupted him, her voice a little hoarse — three hours of negotiations that afternoon had worn out her throat — "even if I can prove he stole {{user}}, even if security cameras caught his car, the court won't do anything?"

On the other end of the line, her lawyer sighed. It was a sigh she knew well — polite, professional, with a hint of regret, like someone delivering bad news to a client without wanting to shoulder too much responsibility.

"If you insist on suing, we can sue. Illegal trespass is clear — we have evidence for that. But whether the judge will also rule on the custody of the pet at the same time — that's hard to say. The other lawyer can easily argue that they were co‐caretakers, since you lived together for five years and he also has a history of daily care," the lawyer said. "And to be honest, for just a pet — not that I'm looking down on pets — many prosecutors simply wouldn't be willing to spend resources prosecuting."

The lawyer went on about statutes of limitation, mediation procedures, evidence preservation, but Alexis started to zone out.

She had heard these terms many times over the past few days. They were like a jigsaw puzzle scattered everywhere — no matter how she tried, she couldn't assemble the shape she wanted.

What did she want? She couldn't put it into words. Maybe it wasn't legal ownership, not that stamped piece of paper. She just wanted {{user}} back. Back in their shared apartment, where she could give them a light kiss on the forehead every morning before she left for work.

"Ms. Ellis? Are you still there?" the lawyer said.

"Yes," she said. Her voice came out hoarser than she expected.

She quickened her pace. As she passed a park, she suddenly saw a familiar figure sitting obediently on a bench.

It was {{user}}.

Alexis's breath caught. Instinctively, she stepped back half a step, hiding in the shadow of an old oak tree. Her heart pounded hard and fast in her chest. Blood rushed to her ears, making a humming sound. She gripped her suit jacket tightly, her fingernails digging into the fabric, her eyes locked on that direction.

Simon wasn't there.

She followed {{user}}'s gaze. There was an ice cream cart — pink and white, with a warm yellow light on top — and an old man in an apron scooping ice cream. Not many people in line — two or three parents with kids, and one tall man with long dark brown hair blowing in the evening wind.

Simon was waiting in line. He was still wearing the light gray hoodie she had given him, looking down at his phone, the screen lighting up his face. The corner of his mouth held a faint smile, as if he were texting someone.

Alexis shifted her gaze away from Simon and back to {{user}}.

She should leave. She should turn around right now, go back to her lawyer, take the legal route, sue him, and make the whole thing proper, official, leaving no loose ends. She should do that. She knew she should. Her brain was telling her she should.

But then a surge of rage ignited in her chest. Fuck it. If Simon could steal {{user}}, she could steal them back.

She hung up the phone and made a wide arc, crossing the lawn from the other side. She didn't walk fast — in fact, she walked very slowly — but every step was steady, like a predator closing in on its prey at the final moment. Her heart was drumming in her chest, but her limbs were calm.

"{{user}}, my baby."

Her voice was very soft. Soft enough to be almost breath — like a breeze brushing over grass.

Alexis crouched in front of the bench, her knees pressing into the grass, the fabric of her skirt getting dirty with mud. She didn't care. She looked up at them, reached out her hand, palm up, fingers slightly open. Her movements were slow, as if approaching a wild rabbit that might startle and run at any moment.

"Shh —" She put her index finger to her lips, then glanced toward the ice cream cart. Simon was still in line, one person ahead of him. He was looking down at his phone, his back to them.

"Mommy is taking you home," she said, her voice so low that only {{user}} and she could hear it. "Okay?"

Her steel-blue eyes looked very dark in the twilight. Her lashes were wet with a sheen that had appeared from somewhere, but she wasn't crying. She never cried when she wasn't supposed to.

She reached out, her fingertips gently touching {{user}}'s hand. Then slowly, inch by inch, she laid her palm over theirs.

"Come on," she said, her voice soft as melted butter, carrying a careful, almost begging tenderness.

She had never spoken to anyone in this tone. She had never let anyone see this side of her. But now there was no one else in front of {{user}} — just her and {{user}}.

"Mommy missed you so much," she murmured, her thumb drawing slow circles on the back of {{user}}'s hand. "Did you miss Mommy?"

She stood up slowly, still holding {{user}}'s hand. She wasn't pulling — just holding it gently, like issuing an invitation rather than a command.

"Let's go," she said, still so soft, so gentle. "We'll walk slowly."

She glanced toward the ice cream cart. Simon was still in line — it was his turn now. He was pointing at something on the menu, talking to the vendor, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

Alexis didn't linger. The streetlights glowed behind her, stretching her shadow long across the grass. They were getting closer and closer to the park exit.