Zac's POV
I don't know what kind of magic spell got cast over Sabrina lately, but she been real... quiet.
Too quiet.
No wild texts.
No pop-ups.
No tagging Fatima in passive aggressive "motherhood is a solo sport" captions.
Just silence.
And let me tell you something — whoever the dude is that's got her attention? I love him. I owe him dinner. A gift card. Maybe even a car.
Because peace in my house has been so solid lately, I forgot what it felt like to be constantly on edge, waiting on her to act out.
Fatima's been sleeping better. I've been sleeping better. Hell, even Kolby's been vibing different — probably because her little spirit isn't being pulled every other week like a tug-of-war toy.
But as much as I'm loving the quiet?
It's time to bring her back to reality.
Because we still got court.
And I'm not about to let Sabrina float on whatever cloud she's on and think she can blink back in just to get Kolby when she feels like posting her for Mother of the Year aesthetics.
This custody situation?
It's about stability.
For Kolby.
For Fatima.
For this baby on the way.
I need my daughter to have one home, not two addresses and three versions of herself depending on who she's with. I need her to grow up feeling safe, grounded, and surrounded by people who show up for her because they want to — not because they need content for their story.
So yeah... let her live in her little fairytale romance for now. Let her feel seen, desired, like somebody finally treating her right.
But she better get her head out the clouds by the time that court date hits —
Because me and mine?
We're done playing nice.
I'm making sure that when this is over, Kolby doesn't have to pack a bag every time her mom wants to pretend for the internet.
Nah.
She's staying where the love is consistent.
Where bedtime's the same every night.
Where "Mommy" means Fatima, and where her siblings are.
She's staying home.
The morning of the hearing hit different.
I sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed way earlier than I needed to be, staring at my phone like it was gonna tell me something I didn't already know.
The house was quiet — too quiet. Fatima was still getting herself together in the bathroom, and Kolby was with Serena eating breakfast and probably negotiating how many grapes counted as "enough" for her to get waffles.
Today was the day.
The day we took it to court and asked the judge to give us full custody of Kolby.
And for a second... I ain't gon' lie, it felt petty.
Like maybe I was doing too much.
Maybe I was dragging Sabrina for nothing.
But then... I thought about the last two years.
Two years of inconsistency. Two years of Sabrina only showing up when a camera was near or when it was convenient. Two years of missed birthdays and rescheduled drop-offs and that fake concern she puts on like makeup when people are watching.
And the whole time?
Kolby's been here.
In this house.
