The moment I stepped into Frida's house, a wave of splendor washed over me. The living room was vast yet inviting, a perfect balance of elegance and warmth that could only be crafted by Frida's impeccable taste.

Sunlight spilled through the large windows, dancing across minimalist furniture that felt both functional and artistic. The polished hardwood floors gleamed, and the subtle scent of new paint lingered in the air.

Wandering into the kitchen, I marveled at the pristine counter tops, sleek and untouched. It was the kind of space that felt ready for life's big moments—shared meals, lingering conversations, the laughter that carries long after midnight. I could almost see us here, gathered around the table, sharing dreams over coffee like we used to during our university days, only now, they'd be real.

I let out a sigh and sank into the plush couch, exhaustion from the day's work settling into my bones. Being here, in Frida's world, was both comforting and bittersweet. It reminded me of what could've been, of the life I'd lost touch with.

On impulse, I dialed Donald's number, knowing he probably wouldn't pick up. But hearing his voice, even just on voicemail, might ease the ache a little.

The phone rang, but then—surprisingly—clicked.

"Ruby?" Sapphire's voice, small and tentative, came through.

My heart lurched. "Blue?" The word escaped before I could stop it, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. But I kept my tone steady, unwilling to let the overwhelming rush of emotions take over. Not yet.

"Yeah, it's me." Her voice was quieter than I remembered—softer, subdued, like a light dimmed. I steadied myself, not letting the ache settle too deeply.

"Why haven't you called? Don't you miss us?" Her question was direct, full of raw vulnerability that sliced through the walls I'd built.

I took a deep breath, forcing the tightness in my throat to loosen. "I miss you every day, Blue," I said, my voice even, despite the ache in my chest. "I just... didn't know how to face everything that's happened."

There was a pause on the other end, the silence heavy between us. I could feel her struggle, too, though she hadn't said a word. Finally, she spoke, a whisper so soft I barely caught it: "I missed you too."

Her words hit me hard, but I refused to break. Instead, I focused on keeping the conversation going, on building something that might bridge the distance between us. She told me about her struggles—how the switch to public school had been harder than she thought, how she stopped going altogether. Each revelation tore at my heart, but I held on to the strength I needed to keep us from falling apart.

"Blue, I promise," I said, swallowing hard, keeping the tremor out of my voice. "I'll make it right. We'll figure this out. Together."

She was quiet for a moment, but her "Okay" was softer than before, carrying the faintest note of hope. I clung to it, even though I knew it was fragile.

I cleared my throat, shifting the conversation to something I had to ask. "How's Mama?"

Her hesitation was palpable. "Not so well. She... she hardly comes out of her room anymore."

The words felt like a weight, pressing down on my chest. I'd heard about Mama's decline from Mrs. Patterson, but hearing it from Blue made it real. My heart twisted at the thought of Mama—once so vibrant—now fading away in silence.

I fought to keep my voice steady, though the grief clawed at me. "Listen to me, Blue. You need to go back to school. Mama would want that for you. And I'll be here, every step of the way. We'll meet after school, just like before, and we'll talk about everything. We'll be a team again."

Her voice was small but curious. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Absolutely," I said, the words firm, despite everything inside me that wanted to collapse. "We're sisters, Blue. No matter what, we stick together."

There was a soft sigh, almost like a weight lifting from her. I held on to that, clinging to the possibility of healing.

But then, a door slammed in the background, and Donald's angry voice cut through, scolding Sapphire for answering the phone. I heard Blue's sadness seep through, the tension thickening between us.

"Sapphire, wait!" I called, panic creeping in, but it was too late. The distance between us seemed impossible now, just like it always had.

Donald was about to hang up, to sever the fragile thread connecting us, but I couldn't let him.

"Donald, please," I said, gripping the phone tightly, willing my voice to remain steady. "Mama needs proper care, and I can provide it. I know you're doing all you can, but this isn't something you should have to handle alone."

A silence stretched on the other end of the line, thick with tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, clipped.
"We don't need your charity, Ruby. We've managed without it just fine."

"It's not charity," I replied, my tone firm. "It's family. Whether you want to accept it or not, she's my mother too. I'm not going to stand by and watch you struggle just because you don't want my help."

A harsh scoff escaped him. "Help? You think sending money fixes anything?" His voice rose, biting. "Help would've been sticking around when things fell apart. Not just waltzing back after four years to throw some cash at us and call it good."

I closed my eyes, feeling his words hit me like a slap, but I fought to hold my ground.
"I know I've made mistakes, and I'm not trying to fix the past, Donald," I said, steadying my voice. "But if I can make things easier now—if I can make sure Mama has the best care—then that's what I'll do."

A bitter laugh crackled through the line, the sound empty, filled with years of resentment.
"So you get to swoop in, play hero, and feel good about yourself while we live with the fallout from what you did? We've had to carry that shame every day, Ruby."

His words carved through me, reopening wounds I'd tried to ignore. I tightened my grip on the phone, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

"I can't change what happened," I whispered, my voice tight, still trying to keep it steady. "But I can help now. And if you won't let me, then I'll find a way on my own to make sure she's taken care of—even if that means bringing her to live with me."

There was a long pause, and I could practically feel him seething on the other end. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely controlled, laced with anger and something deeper—hurt.

"You think that's what she wants? To be uprooted from her home, from everything she knows, just because you're feeling guilty? You left, Ruby. You left us with this mess, and now you want to act like you're saving us?"

Another silence fell, thick and painful, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down. I held my breath, waiting, hoping.

Finally, he exhaled, the sound laced with frustration and exhaustion.
"Fine. Send the money," he muttered, his voice dull, defeated. "But don't think for a second this changes anything."

A hollow victory, but a victory all the same.

When the call ended, I didn't immediately feel relief. Instead, a deep, gnawing emptiness settled into my chest, filling every corner of me.

I let the phone slip from my hand, its dull thud on the table louder than it should have been. I stared at it, the silence in the room suffocating, the weight of his words still heavy on my heart.

Frida's soft footsteps approached, her presence a subtle warmth in the otherwise cold air. She paused beside me, not asking, but simply waiting for me to speak. She didn't try to fill the silence, knowing I wasn't ready to talk.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as if I had a lump lodged there that wouldn't let go. My fingers drummed absently on the table, a nervous energy I couldn't shake. "I'm doing everything I can," I whispered, more to myself than to her. "I want to fix things... but I can't. Not really."

Frida didn't press me to explain more. She simply sat beside me, her hand resting on mine, grounding me in the quiet of her presence.

For a moment, I let myself feel the weight of everything, the burden of guilt and regret pressing in, suffocating my chest. I didn't cry. I didn't have to. The grief was a deep, aching thing inside me, too vast for tears. Instead, I allowed myself to sit in it, letting it swell without trying to push it away.

📎📎

As the weekend drew to a close, the comforting embrace of Frida's house felt like a distant dream. The days had passed in a blur of emotions—heartfelt conversations, silent contemplation, and the occasional laughter that reminded me life still held moments of joy.

Frida had been an anchor, her unwavering support a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of my family's troubles. But as Monday morning dawned, the real world beckoned.

I slipped into the familiar comfort of my office, the sterile scent of coffee replacing the warm aromas of Frida's kitchen. Ember greeted me with her usual efficiency, her bright smile a welcome sight.

As the day wore on, I found solace in my clients' stories, their trust a privilege that anchored me amid the storm of my own life.

By evening, the office was quiet again, the last of the day's echoes fading into stillness. A check for Mama's treatment lay on my desk, a tangible commitment to my family's future. I stared at it, feeling the weight of all that it represented.

Donald was late, as I expected, but I didn't mind. The extra minutes gave me a chance to gather my thoughts, to prepare for the conversation ahead. He didn't want a digital trail linking the money back to me, and though it stung that he was keeping my involvement hidden, I accepted it.

He texted me, asking for a cheque he'd pick up himself. I suggested he bring Sapphire with him, since she had nothing else to do, but he didn't reply.

My patience has limits, but I hoped I hadn't reached them yet. If it meant reuniting my family, I was willing to put up with even more. I just wanted our old life back.

As the last few minutes of daylight slipped through the blinds, I heard the door creak open. My heart quickened, a nervous beat against my ribs. I smoothed my skirt, steadied myself, and walked out to the reception area.

There they were.

Donald stood by the door, his expression unreadable, a guarded tension in his posture. He looked the same, yet different—a little older, a little harder. And beside him, Sapphire stood with wide eyes, a grin breaking across her face as she spotted me.

"Ruby!" she called, rushing over to me. I opened my arms, catching her in a tight hug, pressing kisses to the top of her head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, and her small voice grounded me, filling me with something I couldn't put into words.

"I missed you more, Blue," I said, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Look at you—you've grown so much." We shared a smile, a rare moment of peace.

But then I glanced up at Donald, and the air grew heavy again. His gaze met mine, hard and distant, and suddenly, the weight of the past settled between us, unspoken yet deafening.

A brief, awkward silence followed, "Blue, what do you say we grab some ice cream?"

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded eagerly. "Yes! Can I get the strawberry one?"

"Strawberry it is." I dug out a few bills from my wallet and handed them to her. "Go ahead, we'll be right behind you."

She gave me one last smile before scampering out the door to the park across the street and joined the line at the ice cream truck. We trailed after her and as soon as she was out of earshot, I turned back to Donald.

"How's Mama?"

Donald stiffened, his gaze drifting to the trees around us. The shift in his body language made me realize how much had changed in him, too.

"She's... okay. Her health is improving since we got her medications," he said, his voice tight. "We're managing just fine."

I felt a knot tighten in my chest, the uncertainty in his words not quite matching the calm they were trying to project. "Managing?" I echoed, trying to keep my voice steady. "Or just getting by? Donald, you can't tell me that everything's fine when I know you're barely holding it together."

He glanced at me, his expression hardening. "I'm doing what I can. What I have to. It's not like you'd understand."

The words stung, but I pushed the hurt down. "You're right. I haven't been here. I know that. But I'm trying to be here now. For her. For you. You don't have to do this alone."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might say more. But instead, he let out a frustrated breath and shook his head. "It's not that simple, Ruby. It's never been that simple. You think you can just come back into our lives after everything that happened and fix things? It's not a quick fix. It doesn't work like that."

I felt the frustration rising in me, the old sense of being misunderstood clawing its way to the surface. "I'm not trying to 'fix' anything. I'm not trying to erase what happened. But we are family. And I'm here, whether you want me to be or not."

Donald's eyes darkened. "You think I don't want you here? I want everything to be different, too. But what you did... it's not something you just walk back from. We were hurt, Ruby. You don't get to just erase that. And neither do I."

The sharpness of his words made my chest tighten, but I swallowed down the ache. "I know. I never asked for forgiveness, and I won't. But I need you to see that I'm not the same person anymore. I'm trying, Donald. But you... you keep pushing me away."

For a moment, we both stood in the quiet, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between us. Donald shifted uncomfortably, then broke the silence, his voice low.

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness either. I just want things to stop feeling like they're falling apart. For all of us. But sometimes it feels like you're only here when it's convenient for you."