By mid-April, Helen received her baking certificate.
They celebrated at home with a cake she had made from scratch – lemon chiffon with lavender frosting. Ryan barely touched his slice. He said something about watching his weight and left early for a "late meeting."
Helen didn't ask any questions.
But that night, when the house had quieted, Ashley knocked softly on her mother's bedroom door.
"I'm proud of you," she said.
Helen smiled. "Thanks, honey. I'm thinking of taking the next class. The business one."
Ashley beamed. "You should."
Helen looked down at her hands. "Do you think people would come to a bakery run by a single mom?"
Ashley's breath caught.
"People would come to a bakery run by you. And you're not alone. Not this time."
Helen didn't say anything at first.
Then she reached over and pulled Ashley into a hug. "Sometimes you say things like you're not a kid anymore."
Ashley pressed her face into her mother's shoulder. "Maybe I've always been older than I look."
Ryan came home late more often now. He had passwords on his phone. Once, Ashley overheard him whispering on the phone and laughing.
She didn't confront him.
She was waiting – gathering receipts, watching patterns, slowly nudging Helen toward a place of strength.
In this life, her mother would not walk into devastation helplessly.
She'd walk out of it free.
By the time summer arrived, the air in the house had changed.
Helen was glowing in her quiet way – still gentle, still measured, but more confident now. She wore aprons dusted with flour and spoke about recipe ratios and oven temperatures with authority. On weekends, she sold small batches of pastries at the local farmer's market. Her lemon tarts always sold out first.
Ashley had arranged it all in small, subtle ways. She helped Helen run her social media. She asked the neighborhood aunties to share the posts. She even sent a few anonymous tips to a local food blogger who wrote a glowing review after trying a slice of Helen's blueberry pie.
"Your mom could really turn this into something," the blogger wrote.
Ashley smiled. That was the plan.
But while Helen rose, Ryan began to unravel.
He was rarely home before 10 p.m., and when he was, it seemed he wasn't there.
He stopped coming to school events, forgets anything that has to do with the family, and has been absent for most of the milestones. Countless times, Ashley saw her mother's jaw tighten in disappointment. But she didn't cry.
On the night after Ashley completed the college entrance exams, Helen sat on the back porch with a cup of chamomile tea. Ashley sat beside her, knees pulled to her chest.
"I know, Ashley," Helen said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Ashley blinked. "What?"
"I know about the affair. I've known for a while."
Ashley's stomach dropped.
Helen took a slow sip of tea. "It's her. Michelle. She works in the same building. I saw them together once. Laughing like kids."
Ashley wanted to scream. Instead, she whispered, "Why haven't you said anything?"
"Because I wanted to be ready," Helen said. "And now I am."