The alarm buzzed, pulling me from the grip of sleep. I groaned, fumbling to hit the snooze button before it could screech again. The clock glared at me with red digits, a reminder that I didn't have the luxury of lazing around. My first session was in less than an hour, and clients weren't particularly forgiving about tardiness, even for virtual meetings.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, stretching out the stiffness in my back. The coolness of the wooden floor against my feet was grounding, though my thoughts felt anything but. It was Tuesday already. Four days since I'd seen Mama for the first time in four years. Four days since she'd smiled at me with that mix of hesitancy and love that had almost shattered me on the spot.

The memory played in my mind as I shuffled to the bathroom. Mama had looked smaller than I remembered, her frame frail but her presence no less commanding. I could still feel her arms around me, the way they trembled slightly as she held me tight, like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.

I splashed cold water on my face, forcing myself back to the present. But no matter how much I tried to focus, the emotions lingered, bittersweet and raw. That reunion had been unexpected, yet it had cracked open something inside me that I thought I'd sealed away for good.

Downstairs, the smell of bacon and fresh tortillas greeted me, coaxing a small smile to my lips. Frida was already at work in the kitchen, moving with the kind of practiced ease that made mornings like this feel a little les chaotic.

I grabbed some strawberries and bananas from the fridge, tossing them into the blender with almond milk and a handful of oats. The roar of the blender filled the room as I stood there, staring blankly at the counter while my thoughts drifted back to Friday.

Mama had cried. Not the quiet, dignified tears she was known for but the kind that left her shaking as she clung to me. And I had cried too, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of guilt and relief. The conversation that followed had been tentative, both of us tiptoeing around words we didn't know how to say. But it had been a start. A fragile, beautiful start.

The blender's motor cut off with a click, yanking me out of my thoughts. I poured the smoothie into a glass and took a sip, the cold sweetness a welcome distraction. Frida had left a plate of food on the table, and I joined her, the clink of silverware filling the companionable silence between us.

By the time I was halfway through breakfast, the sound of the phone ringing broke the quiet. Frida stepped out of the kitchen to answer it, her voice a soft hum in the background as I tried to focus on finishing my food. But the moment she returned, the look on her face told me that whatever the call had been about, it was important.

"You have visitors," she said, her tone cautious.

I blinked, confused. "Visitors?"

"It's your mother and Sapphire," she said gently. "They're waiting at the gate."

My heart stopped for a beat, then stuttered back to life, thundering in my chest. Mama? Again?

Frida's voice softened as she continued. "They used the directions you gave Sapphire. Do you want me to—"

"Don't worry," I said quickly, already standing. "I'll go see them."

The cool morning air hit me as I stepped outside, but I barely felt it. My mind was racing, a jumble of emotions colliding all at once. I hadn't expected to see Mama so soon after Friday. That meeting had been overwhelming enough. Was she here because of something I'd said? Or something I hadn't?

When the gate came into view, so did they—Mama and Sapphire, standing side by side. Mama was clutching her handbag tightly, her posture a mix of uncertainty and determination. Sapphire's face lit up the moment she saw me, her excitement practically radiating from her small frame.

"Mama," I said softly, the word catching in my throat.

Her smile was faint but steady. "Ruby."

I didn't hesitate this time. I closed the distance between us, pulling Sapphire into a quick hug before turning to Mama. Her arms wrapped around me, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Today had taken a turn I never anticipated, but as I glanced at Mama, I felt a glimmer of hope, faint yet comforting.

Frida, ever the gracious host, greeted them warmly at the door. Her radiant smile put Sapphire at ease as she gently coaxed my little sister toward the backyard. Sapphire hesitated, torn between staying with us and indulging her curiosity, but Mama gave her an encouraging nod.

"Go on, sweetie. Ruby and I need to have a chat."

Once they disappeared outside, I found myself standing alone with Mama in the living room. The moment felt heavy, the silence stretching between us thick with years of unspoken words.

Mama turned to me, her soft gaze searching, the faint lines on her face etched deeper under the warm light. "How have you been, baby?" she asked, her voice quiet but weighted with longing.

I hesitated, unsure how to condense the past four years into a simple response. "I'm okay, Mama," I said finally. "And you? How are you feeling?"

Her smile was faint but genuine. "Better. Your father's been helping me keep up with my diet, and my insulin pump has made a big difference." She paused, her expression clouding slightly. "But it hasn't been the same without you at home. I've missed you so much."

I nodded, my gaze dropping to the floor. "I've missed you too, Mama."

"Then why haven't you come to see us?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with hurt. "It's like a piece of our family went missing."

Guilt twisted in my chest, a tight, suffocating knot. "I didn't know how to face you all again," I admitted. "Not after that day."

Mama reached for my hand, her touch warm and steady. "Ruby," she said firmly, "no matter how angry your father or I get, you should never feel you can't come back to us. We're family. We love you."

Her words broke through the barrier I'd built over the years, and silent tears slid down my cheeks. This was what I had longed to hear, day after day—the reassurance that I still belonged, that I was still loved.

She continued, her tone soft yet chiding, "But, Ruby, you didn't even call us. Not once, just to let us know you were okay. Do you know how much that hurt me? I lay awake at night wondering if you were safe. And then Donald told me you weren't ready to come home."

The mention of Donald caught me off guard, a sharp twist of disbelief running through me. He said that? The words barely registered, and for a moment, I couldn't process them. Shock rippled through me, quickly replaced by a deep, unsettling confusion. Anger bubbled under the surface, but I forced it back. This moment wasn't about him.

"I'm sorry, Mama," I said, squeezing her hand. "I didn't want to disappoint you and Papa, so I thought it was better to stay away."

She shook her head, her expression pained. "You could never disappoint me, Ruby. You've always been my strong, stubborn girl. I just want you to know you'll always have a place at home, no matter what."

Her words unlocked a flood of emotions, and I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around her.

We settled on the couch, the initial tension between us easing with each passing moment. Mama held my hand, her thumb brushing over my knuckles—a gesture I hadn't realized I missed until now.

"I'm sorry we weren't there, baby," she said softly, her voice trembling. "For your important days... We should have been there. I should have been there."

Her words stirred a deep ache in my chest. "Mama, it's okay," I replied quickly, shaking my head. "You don't need to apologize."

"But I do," she insisted, tears welling in her eyes. "Those were important moments in your life, and I let my pride and ignorance keep me away. That wasn't fair to you."

I squeezed her hand, letting her know I didn't hold it against her.

"You didn't miss much," I said with a small smile. "I did my best to scrape by juggling part-time shifts and my supervised sessions for my licensure. It wasn't exactly glamorous but it's a page in my story."

Her tears spilled over, and she pulled me into a gentle embrace. "I'm sorry you had to go through those moments alone," she whispered, her voice thick with regret.

Hearing her say that filled a void I hadn't realized was still empty. I opened up about my work, sharing the challenges I faced and the milestones I'd achieved. She listened intently, her interest genuine. We talked about Sapphire, how she'd been doing at school, and her boundless curiosity.

"She looks up to you, you know," Mama said softly. "She talks about you all the time, wonders what you're doing. That's why she was so eager to come with me today."

Her words warmed my heart, but her expression suddenly grew serious, her gaze dropping to her hands.

"There's something else I need to talk to you about," she said hesitantly. "It's about your father."

My breath caught. I had been dreading this moment, and the sadness in her eyes told me this wasn't the anger and stubbornness I remembered from him. This was something deeper.

"I love him, Ruby. I always have," she began, her voice trembling. "But lately... he's different. He forgets things—important things. And sometimes he's distant, like he's not really there. I've tried to talk to him, but he brushes me off or gets defensive. And Donald... Donald keeps saying it's just stress, that I shouldn't worry. But I do worry. I worry all the time."

Her words pressed down on me like a weight. She deserved to know the truth, but it wasn't my place to tell her—not yet. Not until Donald admitted his faults too.

"Mama," I said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll come see him. I'll talk to him. Maybe I can get through to him."

Her eyes filled with gratitude, shimmering with unshed tears. "You're the only one who can, baby. He listens to you, even when he doesn't listen to anyone else."

Her plea tugged at my heart. I nodded, even as dread bubbled in my chest. "I will, Mama. I promise."

She exhaled a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging with relief, and pulled me into a tight hug. "Thank you, baby," she whispered. "Thank you."

🌮🌮

I walked with Mama and Sapphire to the bus stop, our steps unhurried despite the impending arrival of their bus. Mama carried herself with quiet confidence, a grace that seemed untouched by time, while Sapphire clung to her side, chattering excitedly about the day.

"I still think you should let me drive you home," I said for the third time, glancing at Mama. "It's not a problem at all."

She shook her head firmly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Nonsense, dear. We've already taken up enough of your time. Besides, I like the bus. Gives me a chance to stretch my legs."

I didn't argue further. Instead, I focused on savoring these last few moments, the simple pleasure of walking side by side, like we used to when I was younger.

When the bus arrived, I hugged Sapphire tightly, her arms squeezing me with an intensity that belied her small frame. Mama's embrace was gentler, but it lingered longer. "Take care of yourself, Ruby," she said, her voice soft with emotion. "And don't forget what we talked about."

"I won't, Mama," I replied, my voice steady but my heart heavy.

I stood at the curb, waving until the bus disappeared from view. Only then did I turn back toward the estate, my steps lighter than they had been in years. Seeing Mama outside the confines of our family home, hearing her affirm that I was still wanted—it was like a long-lost piece of myself had been returned.

Nothing could pale the optimism swelling within me, the eagerness to see Papa, to mend what had been broken. But as the joy lingered, so did another emotion, darker and sharper, cutting through the haze.

Donald.

The realization hit me again, this time with a brutal clarity, as if the stone I had been carrying in my chest was suddenly too heavy to ignore. He had played both sides. His lies had kept me estranged from my family, feeding Mama and Papa false hopes that I didn't want to come home. The weight of his betrayal settled in my chest, twisting with anger—and something deeper. Betrayal. The kind that cuts closest from someone who should've had your back.

I could feel the heat rise in my chest, but it wasn't just the anger. It was the betrayal that ran so much deeper, mixing with the bitter taste of my past. I had kept secrets of my own, true—taking out that personal loan to avoid burdening Mama and Papa, claiming it was a scholarship when I knew it wasn't. It had been hard enough juggling part-time shifts and tutoring to survive, and when that wasn't enough, I'd taken the last desperate step.

I hadn't wanted anyone to know about my work as a stripper, least of all my family. But Donald had found out. And not once had he even tried to defend me, not when the confrontation exploded into a bitter fallout. He hadn't stood up for me when I needed him most, didn't even make an attempt to understand what had driven me to such lengths.

In the aftermath, I'd nearly fallen apart. I hadn't been able to bear facing the judgment and the shame, but Frida and her family had stepped in. They had offered me the support I never received from my own blood. Support. Something Donald had so clearly been unwilling to give.

Anger and betrayal mingled in me now, seething quietly but undeniably. He would pay for this, I vowed silently. Not today. Not tomorrow. But when the time was right, I would make sure the truth came out.