barucai

[Story] Dimensions of Divorce pt. 2

Published: March 31st 2025, 8:02:31 am

Hi HI ✨

I'm happy you didn't had to wait too long for this second part lmao. I hope you like it, if you have any ideas to close up this 3 part story please let me know! T3 & T4 members, check your folders for a bunch of extra images!

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Dimensions of Divorce pt. 2

Daniel shifted uncomfortably in the too-small plastic chair outside the principal's office. The elementary school hallway, with its bright posters and children's artwork, felt alien after hours—empty and oddly quiet.

His phone buzzed with a text from Therese: Running 5 mins late. Start without me if needed.

Great. Of course she'd be late to Paul's parent-teacher conference. Just as he was tucking his phone away, Ms. Winters emerged from her classroom, clutching a folder to her chest.

"Mr. Foster? Sorry to keep you waiting." She smiled nervously, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. At 5'7", she was one of the rare women who hadn't contracted the virus—a fact that made her something of an anomaly at the school.

"No problem," Daniel replied, standing to shake her hand. "My ex-wife is running a bit late, but she suggested we start."

Ms. Winters nodded, her expression carefully neutral at the mention of Therese. "Of course. Principal Hayes is ready for us."

They walked together to the principal's office, an awkward silence between them. Daniel had met Principal Hayes only once before, at the beginning of the school year. He remembered her as imposing even by post-virus standards.

Ms. Winters knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in," called a deep, melodious voice from within.

The office that greeted them had been completely redesigned to accommodate its occupant. The ceiling was higher than the rest of the school, the furniture oversized and reinforced. Behind an enormous oak desk sat Principal Hayes, her 7'4" frame making even the custom chair look insufficient. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she wore a tailored navy suit that somehow managed to look both professional and formidable.

"Mr. Foster," she said, rising to her full height and extending a hand that engulfed his completely. "Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat."

Daniel sat in one of the chairs facing her desk, while Ms. Winters took the other, perching on the edge as if ready to flee at any moment.

"So," Principal Hayes began, lowering herself back into her chair with practiced care, "we're here to discuss Paul's... incident from last week."

"Yes," Ms. Winters jumped in, her voice higher than usual. "As I mentioned on the phone, Paul got into an altercation with another student during my lesson. It became physical."

Daniel frowned. "That doesn't sound like Paul."

"The other boy was making comments," Principal Hayes said, her eyes meeting Daniel's directly. "About women who've transformed. Specifically, about Paul's mother."

Daniel felt a surge of protective anger. "What kind of comments?"

Ms. Winters shifted uncomfortably. "He called transformed women 'monsters' and suggested they were... taking over. When Paul defended his mother, things escalated."

"I see," Daniel said tightly. "And was this other boy disciplined as well?"

An uncomfortable silence fell. Principal Hayes and Ms. Winters exchanged a glance that Daniel couldn't quite interpret.

"That's actually what we wanted to discuss," Principal Hayes said carefully. "Ms. Winters felt that since both boys were involved in the physical confrontation, both should receive equal consequences."

"Which is standard procedure," Ms. Winters added quickly.

"However," Principal Hayes continued, her voice taking on a steely edge, "I disagree. The other boy's comments were clearly discriminatory and provocative. Paul was defending his mother against hate speech."

The tension in the room thickened. Daniel noticed Ms. Winters's knuckles whitening as she gripped her folder.

"With all due respect, Principal Hayes," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "our zero-tolerance policy on physical aggression applies to all students, regardless of the provocation."

"And with all due respect, Ms. Winters," Principal Hayes replied, leaning forward, her massive frame casting a shadow across the desk, "context matters. Would you apply the same standard if a child were defending their family against racist remarks?"

The door opened before Ms. Winters could respond, and Therese entered, ducking slightly to clear the doorframe. Her blonde pixie cut was windswept, and she'd clearly come straight from a showing—she wore a fitted black blazer over a cream blouse and a pencil skirt that hugged her muscular thighs.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, her eyes quickly taking in the scene before her. "Traffic was a nightmare."

Daniel felt the dynamic in the room shift immediately. Ms. Winters seemed to physically shrink in her chair, while Principal Hayes straightened, a subtle smile playing at her lips.

"Ms. Foster. Thank you for joining us. We were just discussing the incident involving Paul."

Therese remained standing, too tall for the standard visitor's chair. "Yes, I heard there was some kind of fight?"

"Your son was defending your honor," Principal Hayes said, giving Therese an approving nod. "Another boy was making disparaging remarks about transformed women, using derogatory language."

"I see," Therese said, her expression hardening. "And both boys are being punished equally, I assume?"

Ms. Winters cleared her throat. "That's our standard protocol for physical altercations, yes."

"Even though the other boy instigated it with hate speech?" Therese's voice was dangerously calm.

"We don't classify comments about the virus transformation as hate speech under our current policies," Ms. Winters explained, not quite meeting Therese's eyes.

"Don't you?" Therese took a step forward, her presence filling the room even more completely than Principal Hayes's. "Perhaps those policies need updating, given that 90% of adult women have transformed. Including, I notice, your principal."

The tension was palpable. Daniel glanced between the three women—Therese towering and indignant, Principal Hayes watchful and supportive, Ms. Winters increasingly uncomfortable.

"Ms. Winters," Principal Hayes said, "would you mind giving us a moment with the Fosters? I believe we need to discuss this matter privately."

It wasn't really a request. Ms. Winters nodded stiffly, gathering her folder and standing. "Of course. I'll be in my classroom when you're ready."

As she left, the atmosphere in the room shifted again. Principal Hayes waited until the door closed completely before speaking.

"I apologize for that," she said to Therese. "Ms. Winters is an excellent teacher in many ways, but she's still... adjusting to the new world order."

"Aren't we all," Daniel murmured, earning a sharp look from Therese.

"What's going to happen to Paul?" Therese asked, getting straight to the point.

Principal Hayes leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking slightly. "Officially, he'll receive a warning, which satisfies the policy requirement. Unofficially, I've already spoken with him and assured him he did nothing wrong in standing up for his family."

Daniel felt a wave of gratitude. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for doing the right thing," Principal Hayes said. "Truth be told, I've been looking for a catalyst to revise our outdated policies. This incident provides the perfect opportunity."

Therese nodded, a silent understanding passing between the two transformed women. "If you need any support from the parent community, I'm happy to help."

"I may take you up on that," Principal Hayes replied, a smile warming her features. She stood, extending her hand first to Daniel, then to Therese. "I think we're done here, unless you have other concerns?"

"Actually," Daniel said, "I'd like a quick word with Ms. Winters, if that's alright. Just to clear the air."

Principal Hayes nodded. "Of course. I'll walk you to her classroom."

As they moved through the hallway, Daniel noticed Therese and Principal Hayes falling into step together, their strides naturally matching. They towered over him, a physical manifestation of how the world had changed. Eight years after the virus, and he still sometimes felt like he was living in a land of giants.

Outside Ms. Winters's classroom, Principal Hayes excused herself, saying she had paperwork to finish. Before leaving, she placed a hand on Therese's shoulder.

"It was good to finally meet you," she said. "Paul speaks very highly of his mother. Now I see why."

Therese smiled. "Likewise. Thank you for supporting him."

Once Principal Hayes had departed, Daniel knocked on the classroom door. Ms. Winters called for them to enter, her voice noticeably strained.

The classroom was empty of students but full of their presence—drawings taped to walls, jackets forgotten on hooks, the faint smell of crayons and glue. Ms. Winters sat at her desk, pretending to grade papers.

"Ms. Winters," Daniel began, "we just wanted to clear things up about the incident."

She looked up, her face carefully composed. "Of course."

"I understand you were following protocol," he continued, "but I hope you can see why we're concerned about Paul being punished for defending his mother."

Ms. Winters set down her pen. "I do understand. And for what it's worth, I don't condone what the other boy said. But my job is to maintain order in my classroom, and that means consistent consequences."

"Even when they're unjust?" Therese asked, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge.

The teacher's eyes flicked to Therese, then quickly away. "The policies exist for a reason, Ms. Foster."

"Yes," Therese agreed, moving closer to the desk. "They exist to protect children. All children. Including those with transformed mothers."

Despite her size and the obvious power differential, there was nothing threatening about Therese's approach. Yet Ms. Winters pushed her chair back slightly, a reflexive movement.

"I'm not... I don't have anything against..." she stuttered.

"You don't need to be afraid of me," Therese said, crouching down to bring herself closer to eye level—a gesture that somehow emphasized rather than diminished her physical presence. "I just want to make sure my son isn't being taught that standing up against prejudice is wrong."

The teacher swallowed visibly. "That's not what I'm teaching him."

"Isn't it, though?" Therese's voice remained gentle. "If he's punished equally with the boy who insulted his family, what lesson does that teach?"

Ms. Winters had no reply. In the silence, Daniel could almost see the woman processing, reconsidering.

"Principal Hayes mentioned revising the policies," he offered, breaking the tense silence. "Perhaps you could provide input from a classroom management perspective?"

This olive branch seemed to ease some of the tension. Ms. Winters nodded slowly. "I... yes, that would be constructive."

"Good," Therese said, standing back to her full height. "Because I'm going to be very involved in this process, and I'd rather work with you than against you."

Daniel recognized the diplomatic tone Therese used with difficult clients—firm but offering a path forward. Ms. Winters seemed to respond to it, straightening her shoulders.

"I appreciate your directness," she said, sounding more genuine than she had all evening. "And I'll consider what you've said about the message we're sending to Paul."

"That's all we ask," Daniel replied, grateful for the de-escalation.

As they prepared to leave, Ms. Winters called after them, "Mr. Foster? Ms. Foster? For what it's worth, you've raised a brave, principled boy. That reflects well on both of you."

Therese's expression softened. "Thank you. That means a lot."

Outside the school, the early evening air had turned cool. Streetlights flickered on as they walked to their respective cars, parked side by side in the nearly empty lot.

"Well, that was intense," Daniel said, breaking the silence.

Therese laughed, the sound bright in the quiet parking lot. "Principal Hayes is impressive. I like her."

"I noticed," Daniel replied, a teasing note in his voice. "You two seemed to... understand each other."

"It's not just a transformed thing," Therese said, though her smile suggested there was some truth to his observation. "It's about standing up for our children."

"Our children," Daniel repeated softly. "We did pretty well with them, didn't we? Despite everything."

Therese stopped beside her car, turning to face him. In the dim glow of the streetlight, her features were softened, reminiscent of the woman he'd fallen in love with years ago.

"We did," she agreed. "We're still a good team, Danny."

He looked up at her, this woman who had once been his wife, who still occupied a place in his heart despite all the changes they'd weathered. "The best team."

Something shifted in her expression—a warmth, a longing that mirrored his own. Without overthinking it, Daniel stepped closer.

"Terry," he said softly, "about that coffee we talked about..."

"Yes?" Her voice was equally soft, expectant.

"I was thinking maybe dinner instead. Just us."

Therese smiled, a slow, genuine smile that transformed her face. "I'd like that."

Then, in a movement both graceful and deliberate, she bent down to his level, her face inches from his. The moment hung between them, weighted with shared history and newfound possibility.

"I've missed you," she whispered.

Before he could respond, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was both familiar and entirely new. Her hand came up to cup his face, so large it cradled his jaw completely, a physical reminder of how much had changed and yet, how much remained the same.

When they finally broke apart, Daniel felt dizzy with the rush of emotion and memory. Therese straightened, her eyes never leaving his.

"Call me about that dinner," she said, a playful command rather than a request.

Daniel nodded, unable to suppress his smile. "I will. Tomorrow."

"Good." With a final lingering look, she folded herself into her car, the customized vehicle accommodating her size in a way the world increasingly did.

As Daniel watched her drive away, he felt a certainty he hadn't experienced in years. Whatever came next wouldn't be easy—they had too much history, too many adjustments still to make—but for the first time since the virus had changed their lives, he believed they might find their way back to each other, different but somehow stronger for all they'd endured.