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The next morning, the sun filtered gently through my window, and for once, I didn't wake up with morning sickness or cravings on my mind.

Instead, I woke up with a decision.

A hard one.

But one I knew I had to make.

Downstairs, Mom was folding laundry in the living room. She looked up when I walked in and set a towel aside, her face already reading mine like a book.

"You're thinking about him," she said quietly.

I nodded. "I want to go back to the police."

Her brows furrowed slightly, not with doubt—but with concern. "Are you sure you're ready?"

I hesitated for just a second before answering. "I think so. After everything that's happened... I don't want this to be something that just fades away. If he's hurt someone else now—and I already spoke up—I don't want to stop halfway. I want him to answer for everything."

Mom stood slowly and walked over to me, placing her hands gently on my arms. "Okay. Then we'll go. You won't do this alone."

She didn't try to talk me out of it. She didn't even hesitate. She just supported me—like always.

By late morning, we were sitting in the same small waiting room at the police department we'd visited months ago. The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly overhead, and I tapped my fingers on my jeans to keep from picking at my nails.

Officer Jensen came out to greet us with a gentle smile, dressed in his usual collared shirt instead of a full uniform. "Emily. Mrs. Blake. I'm glad you came in."

We followed him into a small, private interview room—comfortable chairs, soft colors, and a small box of tissues already placed on the table.

"I saw the report on the news," he said as we sat down. "And... I also remember your statement from before. Thank you for coming back in."

I nodded, nervous but determined. "I want to file again. Officially. I want it on record."

He gave a small, approving nod. "With your first report and this new one, the court will take it seriously. Minnesota law does allow certain serious crimes committed by minors to be escalated to adult court—especially when there's a pattern."

Mom reached over and squeezed my hand, quiet reassurance flowing through her touch.

"I just don't want anyone else getting hurt," I said, my voice soft but steady. "And if I can do something about it... then I have to."

"We'll take care of the process," Officer Jensen said gently. "It may take some time, and there might be more interviews or a court date down the line—but this is a strong step forward."

I exhaled slowly, feeling something I hadn't in a while.

Control.

Not over everything—but over something.

As we left the station, Mom opened the car door for me, and I slid into the seat slowly.

"You okay?" she asked once she was behind the wheel.

I nodded. "I think I will be."

And for the first time, I really believed it.

As soon as we got home, I kicked off my shoes and sank onto the couch, emotionally exhausted but somehow lighter.

Mom was just hanging up her keys when her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen, her brows lifting slightly. "It's the police," she murmured, then answered immediately. "Hello? Yes, this is she."

I sat up straighter.

Her face shifted as she listened, nodding slowly. "Okay... yes. I understand. Thank you for letting us know."

She hung up and turned to me, her expression somewhere between serious and stunned.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"That was Officer Jensen," she said. "They submitted your new statement and reopened your original case. And almost immediately, the court picked it up. They're moving fast, Emily. Faster than usual."

My heart skipped.

"They said we should be expecting a call from the courts in the next few days," she continued. "They want to talk to us about the possibility of moving Trevor's case to adult court."

I stared at her, trying to process it.

"This is real," I whispered.

Mom nodded. "It's happening."

I pressed a hand to my stomach, feeling the faintest stir of nerves—or maybe morning sickness—but either way, I felt it in my whole body.

Not fear.

But the weight of something important.

Something big.

Trevor wasn't just going to fade out of the picture.

He was going to have to face it.

And this time, I wouldn't be afraid to face him too.

The tension still lingered in the back of my mind, but Mom gave me a look after the phone call—the kind of look that said, You've been through enough today. Let's breathe.

So we did.

"Alright," Dad said later that afternoon, clapping his hands together. "It's way too nice outside to be sitting around sulking. I say we take advantage of the sun."

"What are we doing?" Lily asked, perking up immediately.

Dad grinned. "Water balloons. Sprinklers. Maybe the kiddie pool for your sister if she promises not to launch herself in like last time."

"That wasn't my fault!" I called from the porch. "I tripped. Gracefully."

Mom rolled her eyes fondly. "You tripped into a plastic flamingo and took out two lawn chairs."

"Like I said. Gracefully."

Within half an hour, the backyard was a chaotic masterpiece of summer. Lily was squealing through the sprinkler like a whirlwind, Sam had commandeered the hose like it was a high-pressure weapon, and I sat in a beach chair with my feet in a bucket of cool water, soaking in the sun like a cat.

"Don't throw that balloon!" Mom warned as she carried out popsicles for everyone.

Too late.

Splatt!

Right against the fence.

"You have one job, Sam!" Dad laughed, ducking as Lily tried to avenge the grass with a direct hit of her own.

Even I joined in, walking slowly over to the action with a balloon in hand. "Alright, nobody hit the pregnant girl."

"Does this mean you get two targets?" Sam grinned.

"I swear, if this balloon touches me, I'm sitting on your comics."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa, whoa! Peace treaty!"

We ended the evening sprawled out on blankets in the grass, sticky from popsicles, damp from hose water, and full of laughter.

Just as I was about to sit back down in my chair, SMACK—a cold burst of water exploded across my back.

I gasped, spinning around. My soaked shirt clung to my skin, and a few drops dribbled down into the waistband of my shorts.

"SAM!" I shouted, whipping around with full dramatic flair.

He blinked, standing a good ten feet away, completely unaware and holding his last water balloon like it was a delicate artifact. "What?! I didn't throw anything!"

"Oh please," I narrowed my eyes. "That had your name written all over it!"

"I swear!" He pointed to the hose still spraying water in a lazy arc. "I was refilling!"

Lily was doubled over laughing behind the lawn chair, not even trying to look innocent.

"LILY!"

She held up her hands, grinning. "Hey, I was aiming for the flamingo!"

I shook my head, wiping dripping hair from my face. "You missed the flamingo by like—ten feet!"

Mom called from the porch, stifling a laugh. "Nobody's safe out here today."

Dad chuckled, holding up a beach towel. "Alright, alright—truce before someone ends up soaked in orange soda."

"I'm just saying," I muttered as I grabbed the towel and wrapped it around myself, "pregnant girls should get water balloon immunity."

"Agreed," Sam said quickly, eyeing me cautiously. "She has revenge eyes."

"I always have revenge eyes," I said with a smile, flopping dramatically onto the chair again.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light across the yard, and for a while, we all just laid back and laughed.

Even if I was soaked and mildly betrayed by a rogue balloon—I wouldn't have traded that moment for anything.

As the laughter settled and everyone started to dry off, I slipped away toward the side of the house where Dad kept the big orange cooler—the one he used for backyard parties and cleaning out the car after soccer games.

I checked over my shoulder.

Lily was lounging in a chair, eyes closed, completely blissed out and totally unaware that justice was about to be served.

I grinned to myself and started quietly filling the cooler with ice from the garage fridge and the hose.

Sam spotted me from across the yard, one eyebrow raised. "What are you doing?"

I pressed a finger to my lips and mouthed, Revenge.

His eyes lit up, and he gave me a silent thumbs-up.

Once the cooler was halfway filled with icy water, I carried it slowly—very slowly—around the side of the house, being extra careful not to splash.

Lily still hadn't moved.

She had her arms behind her head and sunglasses on like she was sunbathing at some beach resort instead of a lawn warzone.

I crept up behind her, suppressing a wicked giggle.

And then—WHOOSH!

The whole bucket of icy water poured over her in a single, glorious cascade.

She SCREAMED and jumped straight out of the chair, arms flailing, water dripping from every direction.

"EMILYYYYY!" she shrieked, spinning around.

I dropped the empty cooler and doubled over laughing.

"PAYBACK!" I shouted between giggles. "YOU STARTED THIS!"

Sam had collapsed on the grass, crying with laughter.

Mom stepped outside, saw Lily standing there like a drenched, betrayed raccoon, and just shook her head. "I leave for five minutes..."

Lily sputtered and pointed at me. "You're evil! You're actually evil!"

"I'm creative," I said proudly, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. "Big difference."

"Just wait until you're napping later," she warned, stomping toward the house with squelching flip-flops.

"Totally worth it!" I called after her.

As the sun dipped below the trees and the yard settled into that soft golden glow, Dad brought out the firepit from the shed and set it up on the patio. The smell of wood smoke soon drifted into the air, warm and comforting.

Lily reappeared in dry clothes—grumpy for all of five minutes before the scent of toasted marshmallows lured her back out like a moth to a flame.

Mom came outside with a tray stacked with everything we needed: graham crackers, chocolate bars, marshmallows, and skewers.

Sam was already poking at the fire with a stick like he was performing some kind of ancient ritual.

"Do not burn the backyard down," Mom warned playfully as she handed us the supplies.

"No promises," Sam grinned.

We all sat around the fire in fold-out chairs and old blankets. I found a spot

We all sat around the fire in fold-out chairs and old blankets. I found a spot between Lily and Mom.

Lily handed me a graham cracker. "Truce?"

"Truce," I said, and we clinked marshmallows like swords before finishing our s'mores.

Lily and Mom were toasting a marshmallow slowly until it was golden and puffy.

Well... sort of.

I liked mine charred. Burned to a crisp.

While Lily was carefully rotating hers like it was an art form, I just stuck mine right into the flames.

Sam made a face. "That's disgusting, Emily."

I grinned. "It's delicious. Crispy on the outside, gooey on the inside. Perfection."

Lily gagged. "It looks like a lump of coal."

"That's how you know it's ready," I said, blowing the flames out dramatically and squishing it between chocolate and graham cracker with satisfaction.

Mom just shook her head, smiling. "Pregnancy cravings or not, you've always liked your food borderline incinerated."

"Exactly," I said proudly, taking a big bite.

Mia and Jasmine texted me from home, both demanding pictures of the s'mores and saying we'd better save them some next time. I sent them a blurry, chocolate-covered selfie in response.

Dad leaned back in his chair with his own monster of a s'more and let out a happy sigh. "Now this is the good stuff."

The fire crackled softly, lighting our faces with flickering amber. For a while, no one said anything—we just chewed and smiled and let the warmth wrap around us like a hug.

I looked around at all of them—at Lily giggling while chocolate dripped down her fingers, at Sam trying to roast three marshmallows at once, at Mom and Dad sharing a quiet glance and a toasted treat of their own

Once the s'mores were gone and the fire burned down to glowing embers, Dad turned off the porch light. The yard went dim, and the stars came out like someone had switched on the sky.

We all tilted our heads back, eyes scanning the black velvet dotted with silver pinpricks.

"That one's the Big Dipper," Sam said, pointing with his marshmallow stick like a professor. "I think."

"You think?" Lily teased, lying back on the blanket she'd dragged out into the grass. "That's the most basic constellation ever."

"I might have gotten it confused with Orion's belt," he admitted.

Mom chuckled. "Close enough. They're both up there somewhere."

I leaned against the back of my chair, pulling the old blanket tighter around my shoulders. The cool night air made the fire's warmth feel even better. I glanced up at the sky, then down at my stomach, resting my hand there lightly.

"Look," Lily whispered. "A shooting star!"

We all looked up at once. It streaked fast across the sky—gone in seconds—but still enough to earn a few gasps.

"Make a wish!" she added.

I didn't say mine out loud.

But I wished anyway.

For peace. For strength. For the baby inside me to grow up knowing nights like this.

Nights full of laughter, safety, love, and stars.

We stayed like that a little while longer, quiet and content, until finally, Mom said it was time to head in.

Blankets were folded, marshmallow sticks tossed, and the fire pit carefully doused.

As I climbed into bed later that night, I could still smell the wood smoke in my hair and taste a little chocolate on my lips.

And for once... I felt okay falling asleep.