love bruises

ii. secrets

Three weeks passed since that day in the parking lot, and every time Mr. Parker came to pick his daughter up, you smiled at him softly–gave a short report about Daisy's day, and let him leave.

Every morning you'd rehearse what you could say, things like "I'll keep your secret," or "be careful which cars you pick up," and more of the sort–but nothing was ever said between you–nothing more than the usual, professional, back and forth between teacher and parent.

Today, for no reason other than you woke up a little earlier, you made an extra effort with your look. That always felt futile, considering it wouldn't be an hour before you got some sort of stain on your jeans–ranging somewhere between bodily fluid and paint–and it wouldn't be long before you were running around after children and your hair would be a mess, but still. It felt nice to put an effort in, even if it was just for work.

And so you styled your hair into a practical pony–but added a bowtie to upgrade it slightly, and then you winged your eyeliner and put on a neutral shade that complimented said bowtie.

"Good morning!" You said cheerfully to every student that walked in, giving them a small wave or a high five if they gestured to one.

Then the parents would give you small updates, like if their kid didn't have time for breakfast, or if they'd be late for pickup, or anything you needed to know.

When Daisy walked into the room with a grin on her face, she managed to mimic those beautiful crinkles by her father's eyes–but this time, she was followed by a woman you haven't seen before. Her skin was just as dark as Daisy's, and her hair just as curly.

Truly, it wasn't hard to tell they were an exact copy of each other–and this woman could only really be Daisy's mother.

"Hello, I'm Y/N," you said politely–trying very hard not to listen to the horrible voice in the back of your head urging you to compare yourself to her. Was she a model, honestly?

"Hey, I'm Michelle," she introduced, almost solemnly.

Daisy was still clutching her hand like her very life depended on it, and from what you knew about children with separated parents–it wouldn't be an easy morning for the little one.

"Will you be picking Daisy up today?" You asked, internally implying that you very badly wanted Mr. Parker to see you today but also really you shouldn't be thinking about that and maybe her being here right now meant her and Mr. Parker were on speaking terms again or maybe even back together and Daisy deserved that much but you never got to tell him you heard his secret and what were you supposed to say to him if he wasn't single and were you even allowed to think of him the way you did last night and–

"Yeah, I'm in town for a week so I'll be spending as much time as I can with my girl," she said with a smile.

You gave her one back, saying that sounded lovely and you hoped they enjoy their time together. You wanted to ask more, like what she did for a job and if she was staying with them in the house and you knew what that implied and maybe Daisy told her mother the other secret and Michelle wouldn't take lightly to you asking about her personal life when her ex thought you were pretty and you sighed heavily when you realised how high school you sounded.

You were twenty five for fuck's sake. Get a grip.

You gave Daisy and her mother one last smile before you walked away to the next parent–chatting about the weather and traffic before the kids were to start their day.

The day started, and then it ended, and parents came and went and Daisy was off with her beautiful mother.

In your head, you decided she was always out of town because she was a supermodel and her and Mr. Parker broke up over a wild and scandalous affair she had with an international model in some magical part of Europe and it all got too much for the family.