2
May throws herself into the back garden, the cool air slapping against her skin as she struggles to breathe past the suffocating weight on her chest. The scent of freshly trimmed grass and faint jasmine does little to calm her.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” she mutters, pacing frantically, her arms flailing in time with her racing thoughts. Her shoes scuff against the stone patio as she makes sharp, desperate turns, unable to stay still. Her mind is a chaotic whirlwind, frenzied by the grief of losing her best friends and now — now this.
She’s supposed to take care of Nova? Aly and Tan’s child? That sweet little girl who has no idea what's happened to her parents? And not just on her own, no — with Ai-oon.
May groans, dragging her hands through her hair. "What the hell were they thinking?" she hisses under her breath, glaring up at the sky as if Aly and Tan themselves might be looking down with some smug, celestial grin. "Seriously. What kind of drugs were you two on when you decided this was the plan?"
Ai-oon? Ai-oon?
That woman rides a motorbike like she’s trying out for a death wish competition. She eats cereal out of a mug because "it saves dishes," and thinks showing up five minutes late is the same as being on time. Ai-oon is basically still a child herself.
Now May’s supposed to raise a kid with her? Oh God, oh God, oh God.
May stops abruptly, her breath hitching as panic tightens her throat. Her hands tremble at her sides. I can't do this. I can't be a mom. She's never even successfully kept a houseplant alive for more than three weeks.
Her knees weaken, and she grips the back of one of the wrought iron chairs near the garden table for balance. Why would Aly and Tan put this on me? On us?
***
After letting herself break down outside, May re-centers her frayed nerves and steps back into the dining room where Dunn waits, flipping through papers with practiced calm. Ai-oon trails back inside from the front door soon after, her face etched with stress lines that haven’t softened since they first sat down.
Without a word, Ai-oon drops heavily into the chair beside May. “Okay! So-!” The sound of her fist thudding against the table echoes through the room, a clumsy attempt to project enthusiasm that falls flat. She winces, muttering an awkward apology.
"Options," Ai-oon says abruptly, clearly scrambling for clarity. "You, uh, mentioned some other... options?" Her voice falters, words stumbling out in a rush.
Dunn nods kindly, not missing a beat. "Yes. We do have Tan’s father as a potential guardian—”
“Oh, perfect,” Ai-oon cuts in, earning a scoff from May in disbelief. She swivels toward Ai-oon with wide, incredulous eyes. “He’d be perfect, don’t you think?” Ai-oon continues as she turns to meet May's stare, clearly reading what May’s expression screams: Tan’s father is eighty and practically deaf.
“Right,” Ai-oon mutters under her breath, “that might not be... ideal. I guess”
Dunn continues without hesitation. "There are also some cousins we can reach out to—”
“I'm sorry, can I stop you there?" May straightens in her chair, her tone authoritative.
"Cousins could work—...," Ai-oon mumbles under her breath, earning another sharp glare from May. Ai-oon raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay…jeez.”
"What if one of us," May says firmly, though hesitation lingers at the edge of her voice, "chose to honor Aly and Tan’s wishes... on our own?"
Ai-oon's head snaps toward May, disbelief now flashing across her features. "Or both of us, hypothetically," Ai-oon quips, arching an eyebrow.
May smirks faintly. "Hypothetically."
Dunn clears his throat, cutting through their quipping. "They named both of you as guardians," he reminds them gently. "So I just have to set up a court hearing to grant you temporary custody. After that, it's official."
May blinks, her mind struggling to grasp the weight of it.
"Now," Dunn continues with practiced efficiency, "about the finances. The estate will cover the mortgage, but beyond that, there isn’t much. They bought this house as an investment.”
May’s gaze sweeps across the room—the warm wood floors, the neatly framed family photos, the light streaming through the bay window. It’s a beautiful space, but suddenly it feels like a monument to Aly and Tan’s absence.
Ai-oon seems equally stunned, her brows furrowing.
"But let’s not get ahead of ourselves," Dunn advises. "Right now, the focus is on Nova."
“Yes," May says with a decisive nod.
"Right," Ai-oon echoes, her voice steadier now.
Dunn leans forward, folding his hands on the table. "I suggest the two of you move in here for the time being—for Nova. At least until you decide what you want to do long-term."
May lets out a loud disbelieving laugh, before she quickly realises just how serious Dunn is being "You want us to live together?!"
Dunn nods solemnly. "For Nova. For now. It’s what’s best."
The room falls silent, the enormity of his words sinking into the space between them.
***
The CPS office smells faintly of disinfectant and stale coffee, a stark contrast to the warmth May is desperate to bring back into Nova’s life. The hum of printers and muted conversations drift through the building as May and Ai-oon finish signing the last of the custody documents.
"Okay, sign here, Miss Metavee." The caseworker, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a clipboard, gestures to the dotted line.
May's hand trembles slightly as she grips the pen, scrawling her signature.
"And here, Miss Ai-oon."
Ai-oon leans forward, her usually confident demeanour subdued as she scribbles her name beside May's. They exchange a glance — the weight of their responsibility hanging heavy between them.
“Thank you,” the CPS woman says, collecting the documents with practiced efficiency. "I’ll get Nova for you."
The words settle in the room, a beacon in the chaos. May’s pulse quickens as the door to an adjacent hallway opens. Her breath catches in her throat.
And then there she is.
Nova, dressed in a tiny lilac dress with ruffled sleeves, clings tightly to the hand of a social worker. Her dark curls are tousled, and her eyes — big, brown, and tear-glossed — search the room nervously.
“Oh,” May breathes, her voice catching. “There she is.”
She’s on her feet before she even realises it, crossing the room in quick, purposeful strides, she opens her arms wide taking Nova from the social workers arms.
"Hi, sweet girl," she coos softly, gathering Nova against her chest. "Oh, honey. It's so good to see you."
Nova's small body goes rigid and then begins to shake as she starts to whimper before bursting into tears, her sobs tired and heart-wrenching. May's throat tightens painfully, tears threatening to spill from her own eyes.
"I know, I know," May whispers, swaying back and forth, cradling Nova close. "It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ve got you."
The baby's cries don’t abate, her tiny fists clutching at May’s shirt. The overwhelming sadness of the last 24 hours crashes into May anew, but she forces herself to hold it together. Nova needs her to be strong.
Footsteps approach, and May glances up to see Ai-oon standing nearby, her expression soft.
"Hey, look," May says, voice gentle. "You want Aunty Ai? Here."
She carefully passes Nova to Ai-oon, who takes the baby with gentle ease. Nova looks even smaller held in Ai-oon’s strong arms.
“There’s Aunty Ai-oon,” May murmurs, brushing soothing strokes across Nova’s back as Ai-oon instinctively rocks the little girl.
Nova's sobs begin to subside, her tiny fingers curling into Ai-oon's shirt as she nestles against her shoulder. Ai-oon’s dark eyes flicker with something raw and protective as she holds the child close, her grip firm yet tender.
May watches in quiet amazement as Nova relaxes, her breathing evening out. Ai-oon tucks her head slightly, resting her cheek against the top of Nova's curls.
"It's okay sweet girl," May whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "Okay. We should get her home."
Ai-oon nods, her jaw set with determination.
"Yeah," she says softly, her voice steadier than May's. "Let’s get her home."
***
Back at the house, May sits curled up on the sofa with her bool. Her eyes flick back and forth every so often from her book to the crib in the corner of the room as Nova sleeps, keeping an eye on the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest.
The sound of heavy footsteps thudding against the hardwood pulls May’s attention to Ai-oon, who marches in like a whirlwind, a beer dangling from her hand. Her dark hair is loose, slightly messy from a long day, and her expression screams frazzled.
“They definitely didn’t think this through,” Ai-oon announces, flopping onto the sofa across from May with a theatrical groan.
May arches a brow, her tone serious as she looks up from her book. “We need to establish a sleep schedule. It’s very important.” She closes the parenting book she’d been intensely reading and sets it on the coffee table, a finger marking her place.
“What?” Ai-oon's face scrunches in confusion.
May blinks, realising she missed whatever Ai-oon said when she first walked in. “What did you say?”
“I said they didn’t think this through,” Ai-oon repeats, waving the beer bottle for emphasis. “Did Tan ever say anything to you? Or Aly?”
“Nope.” May sighs, placing her book down carefully as she studies Ai-oon, who’s running a hand through her hair—something May's learned she does when she's feeling a lot of emotions at once.
“This is not the kind of thing you forget to mention.” Ai-oon leans forward, animated now. “Like, hey, did you see that game last night? What a killer shot number three made! Oh, and by the way, if I die, I’m gonna leave you with my kid.” Ai-oon flings her arm dramatically. “It’s messed up.”
May responds calmly, trying to ground the conversation. “Aly was a planner. We’re part of a plan.”
Ai-oon’s eyes narrow, a sharpness creeping into her tone. “Yeah? Well, you wanna walk me through this so-called plan?”
Tension prickles the air between them.
“Are we supposed to live in this house together? Share the place, both sleep-deprived, losing our minds? Sounds like some compelling psych experiment.” Ai-oon gestures wildly.
“We can afford it,” May counters, her voice steady. “Dunn said the mortgage is covered.”
Ai-oon’s jaw tightens. “Great. What about the upkeep? Utilities? Taxes? Do you have any idea what the nut on this place is? Tan was a junior partner at a law firm. I don’t make that kind of cash.” She narrows her gaze, adding with biting sarcasm, “And what do you do? Bake cupcakes for a living?”
May’s voice sharpens. “I run a successful restaurant and café business. I do very well, thank you.”
“Yeah? Well, running a baby isn’t like running a bakery.” Ai-oon’s voice rises with exasperation. “They're a mess. They pee on things. They bite. They're basically dogs. Except at least a dog knows not to lick the electrical sockets.”
May opens her mouth to retort, but a sudden, piercing wail cuts through the room, freezing them both in place.
Nova.
Nova's wails fill the room, sharp and unrelenting. May bolts to her feet, instinct taking over. "She's up. She's up." Her voice is urgent as she rushes toward the crib.
"Okay, honey. Hey. Hi." May's voice softens into a soothing coo as she waves at Nova, whose little face is crumpled with distress.
"Hey, hey, look at the sleepyhead." Ai-oon trails closely behind, her voice lower but just as warm.
May smiles at Nova, doing her best to radiate calm even as nerves twitch under her skin. "Hi, honey."
Ai-oon reaches toward the crib. "Here we go, come here—"
May quickly grabs Ai-oon's arm and pulls her back sharply. "No, no, don't pick her up."
Ai-oon freezes, bewilderment spreading across her face. "Why not? She's literally crying her lungs out."
"Because," May says firmly, "she needs to learn how to self-soothe."
Ai-oon blinks, clearly doing a mental double-take. "She needs to what?"
"Self-soothe," May repeats with authority, despite the chaos around them. "It's important. I just read about it. Ai-oon, it's a whole thing."
Ai-oon stares at her like May's sprouted a second head. "You want this tiny baby to... soothe herself?"
"Yes. It's about teaching her to regulate her emotions." May sighs, exasperation creeping into her tone. "Let's just give it a minute, okay?"
Nova's cries continue, shrill and desperate. The baby stares at them with wide, tear-glossed eyes as if questioning their judgment.
"Everything's okay," May tries, standing a few feet from the crib. Her voice is unnaturally chipper. "Happy, happy girl."
Nova's response? Louder screams.
Ai-oon grimaces. "Yeah, this is working great. You got any other genius ideas, Supernanny?"
May shoots her a look before inspiration strikes. "We'll sing a song," she announces with sudden determination. "Music's supposed to help, right?"
Ai-oon's brows shoot up. "What are we—on Sesame Street?"
But May doesn't wait. She jumps straight into The Wheels on the Bus, her voice wobbly but enthusiastic. "The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round—"
Ai-oon flinches but reluctantly joins in after May gives her a pointed nudge. Her voice is flat, slightly off-key, but determined nonetheless. "Round and round…"
They make it through the entire song. Twice.
Nova? Still crying.
"Okay, this is officially torture," Ai-oon grumbles, her voice hoarse from singing. "She's not soothed; I'm not soothed. This is a disaster."
May exhales sharply, folding under the pressure. "Maybe she's hungry. Yeah. She's probably hungry." Abandoning every parenting strategy she'd just read, she steps toward the crib. "I'm gonna feed her." May scoops Nova quickly into her arms, heading to the kitchen.
"But I thought we weren't picking her up?" Ai-oon's voice follows her, tinged with smug amusement.
***
Nova's cries pierce through the kitchen, echoing off the walls as she sits in her highchair, wailing with impatience. Her tiny fists pound the tray as if protesting the slow service.
"I'm almost done, honey. Hold on." May's voice is strained as she rushes around the kitchen, blending a mix of brightly coloured vegetables. Her movements are frantic, fuelled by a desperate need to soothe the baby's distress.
Standing off to the side, entirely unhelpful, is Ai-oon. Arms crossed, she watches the chaos unfold with an amused smirk. "She's not a food critic, May. She's a one-year-old," she comments dryly.
"I'm not gonna feed her just anything," May snaps, her patience hanging by a thread.
Ai-oon throws her head back dramatically. "But we're gonna feed you today, Supernova. Don't worry. Hopefully before you're two."
May clenches her jaw, shoving Ai-oon aside as she moves to the stove. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all. This is highly entertaining," Ai-oon quips.
Nova's cries rise in pitch, and May's anxiety spikes along with them. She whisks the pureed vegetables into a bowl, mentally praying that this meal will be a hit.
As she works, Ai-oon casually leans against the counter. "So, tell me—what does Nova do to your dreams of meeting someone and having your own baby? Thought about that yet?"
May glares at her. "Really? You wanna do this now?"
Ai-oon shrugs. "A woman like you already has a hard time competing for the few women who don't suck."
May's head snaps up. "I'm sorry. Did you just say a woman like me?"
"In the dating world," Ai-oon continues without missing a beat, "you wouldn't be considered single. You know what you'd be? Complicated. Beyond complicated."
"You don't know anything about me," May fires back, voice sharp as she tries to open the knife drawer.
Ai-oon's lips twitch with amusement. "Well, I know you can't open a childproof drawer."
May growls in frustration as she finally wrestles the stubborn drawer open with a triumphant yank. "Why are you trying so hard to convince me not to help her?" she demands, marching toward Ai-oon.
"I'm not," Ai-oon counters, her expression hardening. "I'm just trying to do what's best for her."
"No, you're trying to do what's best for you," May fires back, leaning closer.
"I'm trying to do what's best for her," Ai-oon insists, her voice rising. She gestures between them. "We're not it, Metavee."
May's breath catches, her chest tightening. "They loved Nova more than anything in the entire world... and out of everyone, Ai-oon, they picked us."
The weight of her words hangs in the air. Ai-oon's jaw tightens, conflict and emotion twisting across her face. Her dark eyes shimmer with something raw, something May isn't sure she's ever seen before.
"They picked us," May repeats softly but firmly, daring Ai-oon to challenge it.
Ai-oon opens her mouth to speak but she's interrupted.
Nova's cry cuts through the heavy moment, snapping May out of her stare. "I'm coming," she calls, grabbing the bowl of baby food and moving back to the highchair.
"Check this out," May coos to Nova, spoon poised. "I think you're gonna love it. Taste sensation. Ready? Mmm."
Nova dodges the spoon, turning her head away stubbornly.
"Come on, just try it," May pleads, her voice edging toward desperation. "Nova, please? Just one bite."
After several failed attempts, Nova finally relents, opening her mouth.
"There you go, good girl—"
Before May can finish the sentence, Nova spits the food out with impressive force, splattering it all over May's face.
Stunned silence follows. The vibrant orange mush drips from May's chin.
Ai-oon, ever the opportunist, saunters over casually. Without a word, she opens a box of cereal and pours it directly onto Nova's highchair tray. Nova's tears cease immediately as she happily grabs handfuls of the cereal, stuffing them into her mouth.
May wipes her face with the back of her hand, still stunned. "You have got to be kidding me."
Ai-oon crouches down to Nova's level, her expression unreadable as she watches the baby chew contentedly. "Do you honestly think we're the best thing for her?" she asks quietly, her voice carrying a weight that cuts through the humor of the moment.
May meets her gaze, the question hanging heavily between them. This time, she doesn't have an answer.