Chapter 38

The aroma of sizzling eggs and toasted bread stirred me awake.

For a moment, I just lay there, listening to the soft clatter of pans from the kitchen and the hum of my mother’s voice as she hummed one of her favorite hymns under her breath. Something about it made my heart warm, it was the sound of comfort, of home.

I padded out of bed, rubbing my eyes, and slowly sat up, stretching like a cat. My oversized T-shirt slid off one shoulder, and I tugged it back absently.

I peeked into the kitchen and there she was, standing barefoot in one of my old aprons, her hair wrapped in a scarf, swaying gently as she flipped something on the pan.

She was also humming. My mom always hummed when she was content, sometimes hymns, sometimes old school tunes from the 80s that she'd dance to in the kitchen when I was little. This morning, it was one of those old school tunes. A familiar one. It wrapped around the house like sunlight, gentle, soft, reassuring.

“Good morning,” I said with a smile.

She turned, beaming, spatula in hand and an apron tied around her waist.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said. “You’re just in time.”

I walked up to her and wrapped my arms around her waist from behind. “You’re cooking.”

“I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast,” she said, pulling away slightly. “You’ve had a lot going on lately. Figured you could use a little spoiling.”

“You’re the best,” I mumbled into her shoulder.

I hesitated for a moment. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

She turned to face me fully, one hand resting on her hip. “Lila. You’re my child. I came here to see you, to be here for you. And if that means making you breakfast every morning while I’m around, then that’s what I’ll do.”

I blinked back a rush of emotion and nodded. “Okay, but only if you let me do dinner.”

“Deal,” she smiled.

She stepped back and waved a spatula at me. “Now go shower and get ready for work. We’ll eat together before you leave.”

I nodded, heart fuller than it had been in weeks.

By the time I was dressed and ready, she had set the table. Toasted bread, scrambled eggs with some green peas to make up for the veggies and a glass of freshly blended juice. She even packed a small lunchbox with my name scrawled across it in her loopy handwriting.

“Mum,” I laughed, touched. “You didn’t have to go this far.”

She winked. “Oh please, allow me take care of you. It’s not every day I get to be with my daughter.”

We ate and chatted about nothing serious, TV shows, her favorite market vendor back home, neighbourhood drama. Normal things. Things that made me feel, for a moment, like my life wasn’t tangled in chaos.

When it was time to leave, she handed me the packed lunch and kissed my forehead. “Have a good day. I’ll be here when you return.”

“Promise you’ll rest too?” I teased.

“I will. Pinky swear,” she smiled.

I left for work with my heart light, the happiest I had felt in a long while.

At the office, everything was strangely normal.

No drama. No whispers. No lingering stares. Just the usual buzz of keyboards and phone calls. It was refreshing and slightly suspicious. But I wasn’t about to complain.

I had barely settled in when Miriam walked up to my desk, her eyes filled with concern.

“Hey,” she whispered, leaning in. “You okay? I didn’t see you yesterday.”

I gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I was a bit under the weather and I took the day to rest.”

She tilted her head. “Feeling better now?”

“Much better. Thanks for checking in.”

She smiled and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before returning to her desk.

I felt a brief pang of guilt not telling her everything. Miriam had become my anchor at work, but I wasn’t ready to let the whole truth out yet. It was still too raw.

Later in the day, just before time for lunch I remembered I hadn’t updated Drew about the vendor meeting. He still needed to approve some of the new purchases, and with the launch creeping closer, I couldn’t afford any delays. I grabbed the file.

Also I still had his key card. It was beginning to feel like a thread connecting us, and I needed to sever it or at least return it.

I gathered my notes, the printed vendor report, and the key card, took a deep breath, and headed to his office.

I paused outside the door for a second, bracing myself.

I hadn’t seen him since the night he leaned on me, literally and emotionally. I wasn’t sure what version of Drew I would meet today: the cold boss, the vulnerable man in crisis, or something else entirely.

“Come in,” he said after I knocked.

He was seated behind his desk, fingers interlaced, expression unreadable. Not cold. But not warm either. Just... neutral.

I stepped in, closing the door behind me. “I have the updates from the vendor meeting.”

He nodded, gesturing to the seat across from him.

I sat, quickly summarizing the highlights and pushing the printed estimates toward him. His eyes scanned the pages, and after a moment, he picked up a pen and scribbled his approval.

“This looks good you can proceed with the order.”

I nodded and hesitated before pulling the key card from my pocket. “And... I brought this. Thought I should return it.”

He looked at it, took it from me without touching my fingers. “Thank you.”

I stood to leave.

But just as I turned to leave, I paused and looked back. “Are you... feeling better now?”

His eyes met mine. For a moment, I saw something flicker, hesitation, maybe even gratitude.

“I’m fine,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

That was enough. I offered a small nod and walked out.

The rest of the day passed smoothly.

At lunch, I opened the box my mom packed and smiled when I saw Mac and Cheese, my favorite. Nobody made it better than my mom. I inhaled every bite like it was the last good meal I’d ever have.

I didn’t know how long she was staying, but having her with me especially now felt like divine intervention.

By the time 5 p.m rolled around, I had cleared most of my to-do list and was ready to leave. I texted my mom as I exited the office:

Me:

Think we can have a movie night? Like old times?

Mom:

I’d love that, I’ll set up the cushions. You bring the popcorn.

I stopped by a mini mart and picked up popcorn, some sodas, and a few chocolate bars. My stomach was already doing cartwheels in anticipation.

When I got home, the lights were already dimmed and the living room smelled of lavender from the diffuser my mom must’ve found in my closet.

I freshened up, changed into soft pajamas, and came to the living room. My mom was already there in one of my old robes, face scrubbed and glowing, scrolling through the TV looking for our favorite rom-com.

We picked one of our favorite romantic comedies, the kind that made us laugh and tear up at the same time. We tossed popcorn into each other’s mouths, argued over which actor had aged better, and sang along to the movie’s cheesy soundtrack. It was perfect. Too perfect.

About halfway through, we ran out of snacks.

“I’ll order pizza,” I offered, reaching for my phone.

“Order double,” she teased. “I have a feeling we’re finishing this in one sitting.”

We laughed again, belly deep laughter, and I remember thinking please, let me hold on to this moment a little longer.

Just as we were settling back onto the couch, a knock came at the door.

“I’ll get it,” my mom said, standing up, already assuming it was the delivery.

I stayed curled under the blanket, not paying much attention until I heard her voice shift.

“Oh.”

Something in her tone made me turn.

And there he was.

Max.

Standing at the door.

Holding a bouquet of fresh flowers, his eyes darting past my mother to scan the living room, searching for me.

His expression unreadable.

My heart sank. My mom looked between us, confused and clearly caught off guard.

And just like that the night shifted.

Because whatever peace I had been building, Max was about to shatter it again.