A/N Thanks for the amazing reviews, guys, and thanks for the responses to the notes I sent. I hope the whole edited chapter 3 wasnt too confusing. I want to dedicate this chapter to Inara Cabot, a reader and reviewer.

Chapter 4

"Huh?" I asked stupidly. "How did you work that out?"

"Well," replied Mom, her voice faltering a bit. "He's not home...and um... he's always home before seven... and-"

"Honey, I'm home!" called my dad's jolly voice. I shot my mom a I-never-believed-you-anyway look. Jake just stood there holding my hand, a little confused.

"I got takeout! Suze, its thai, your favourite!"

I let go of Jake's fingers and ran towards my dad. I love him, he always puts me before him. And the smell of that food was gorgeous.

"Hey, Meg," said my dad, leaning to kiss my mom's damp cheek. "Have you been crying?"

"Um...no, I just washed my face. How was your day?" I could tell my mom was embarrassed. As Jake emerged from the lounge, I could tell he was a little rosy too.

We sat down to eat. It was funny watching Jake tackle noodles with chopsticks. I, however, am an expert. Afterwards, I walked Jake to our front door, and kissed him goodnight. He's the greatest guy I have ever known.

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"Where is your father?" asked my mom impatiently, while I was watching Friends.

"How should I know?" I replied irritably, plucking popcorn from my bowl. "He better be bringing more than takeout this time."

"Yeah," said my mom, distractedly. This wasn't the second time my dad was late home. This was the tenth. Not that I'm counting.

Twenty handfuls of popcorn later, my dad came through the door.

"The traffic tonight!" he cried, dropping his briefcase. My dad works in Manhattan as a lawyer. Normally, he's home normal time, as theres not much traffic. It wasn't just me who found this suspicious. My dad was up to something. Maybe a second honeymoon for him and my mom...

Maybe not, my dad's not that romantic. I phoned Jake.

"Was there loads of traffic around tonight?" I asked. He works part-time for a pizza place, so he notices stuff like traffic.

"No..." he replied slowly. My eyes opened wide. My dad lied!

"Are you ok, Suze?" Jake had obviously noticed my silence.

"Um," I replied, horrified to find my voice cracking, and tears flowing. "I have to go, Jake. Bye."

Before I put the phone down, I heard Jake yell -"Call me!"

He really is so sweet.

Concentrate, Suze. Your parents' marriage is jeopardy.

Why am I talking to myself?

I ran into the lounge, where my mom and dad were watching TV. Once my parents established I was in the room, my dad stopped smiling, and stood up to stroke my damp cheek.

"Suze," he said. "You're crying. Why?"

"Um," I said. Because what could I really say? I'm crying because my mom has poisoned my mind? I settled for saying, "I...er...got stuck on math homework."

I knew neither my mom or dad would fall for that, because I'm not that pathetic, but to my surprise, they seemed satisfied. The worry that Mom had planted into my mind was almost faded, until I looked up from sniffling into my dads shoulder, when I saw a faint fuschia lipstick smudge on his neck. Nobody in my family even owns a fuschia lipstick, let alone wears some.