Chapter 40

If I could bottle the last seven days and keep them tucked safely in a corner of my heart, I would. This week with my mom was the kind of softness I didn’t realize I’d been craving. Her presence had filled the quiet spaces in my apartment, and in me.

Every morning, she woke up earlier than I did just to make breakfast; toast, eggs and pancakes with lots of honey on some days and oat porridge when she thought I needed something “nourishing.” And every afternoon, she packed my lunch with a little sticky note tucked inside. Sometimes it was a verse from the bible to keep me going and other times it was just, “You’re doing great, sweetheart” or “You mean the world to me. I love you”

Every night, when I came home tired, she’d already have something simmering on the stove, humming her favorite songs as she stirred. I told her that i was going to be in charge of dinner but she did it regardless just like she did back home.

My home felt lived in and warm. Less like a hiding place and more like... Fresh breeze.

She even went with me to my doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. Sat beside me in the waiting room with her hand over mine like a protective shield.

When the doctor asked if I wanted to know the gender, I hesitated. My mom just smiled and whispered, “Let it be a surprise. That way we can still argue about names.”

We had joked about that all week.

“If it’s a girl, I’m naming her after myself,” she declared, while flipping fish in a pan.

“If it’s a girl, I’m naming her something short and sweet. No offense.”

She feigned offense. “What’s wrong with Margaret? It’s classic.”

“Exactly,” I laughed. “Too classic.”

We didn’t stop talking about it. Whether it was going to be a boy or a girl, how silly I would look in those big maternity gowns when my belly becomes big. It felt so nice to talk about my pregnancy and not feel some sense of guilt. It made me love my unborn child more than I ever have.

In between laundry folding and late night TV binges, we tossed names around like confetti. She said I should name the baby something strong. I said I just wanted to survive the pregnancy without losing my mind.

But today... today was goodbye.

Her suitcase sat by the door, already zipped and upright, ready to roll. She’d only planned a short visit, just a week and though I begged her to stay longer, she gently reminded me that she had responsibilities too. A business to run, orders waiting, people depending on her and also my dad who could not stay apart from his darling wife for so long.

I understood. But that didn’t make it easier.

She made breakfast as usual, a farewell breakfast this time, banana pancakes with honey drizzle, my childhood favorite.

Neither of us said much as we ate.

The silence wasn’t heavy. Just... full. Like we both knew if we opened our mouths, we’d cry.

When it was time to leave, I helped her carry her bag to the car. The drive to the bus station was short, but we made it feel longer. We rolled down the windows and let the wind tangle our hair. She played her favorite songs through my speakers and sang along off-key, making me laugh.

And then it was time.

The station was crowded, buses coming and going, passengers bustling with luggage and goodbyes. I pulled up beside her platform, put the car in park, and turned off the engine.

“I’ll call every day,” she said, gripping my hand tightly. “Even if it’s just to hear your voice. And once the baby comes I will be here to help you with everything you need.”

“I’m going to miss you so much, Mum.”

She pulled me into her arms and held me like I was still five years old and scared of the dark. “You’re not alone,” she whispered. “Even when I’m not here, you’re never alone.”

Tears stung my eyes as I nodded against her shoulder.

“You’re going to be such a good mom,” she added, pulling back slightly. “I know you don’t believe that yet, but I see it. You’re stronger than you think.”

I couldn’t speak. If I did, I’d fall apart.

She wiped under my eyes with her thumb, then kissed my forehead. “Now go before I change my mind and stay another week.”

We both laughed, even as the tears fell.

She boarded the bus, waving through the window until it pulled out of the station.

And then she was gone.

Just like that, the world felt quieter again.

I sat in my car, staring ahead, unsure what to do with myself. I wasn’t ready to go home just yet. It would feel too empty. Too quiet.

So I drove aimlessly for a while, letting the city pass me by in a blur. I didn’t even realize where I was until the traffic light turned red and I found myself across from a quiet Italian restaurant.

My stomach turned.

Not from hunger.

But because I saw them.

Max.

And Kimberley.

Walking out of the restaurant like they had no care in the world.

His hand was wrapped around hers, no space, no hesitation. They were laughing about something, her head tilted back, her hand brushing against his chest.

I froze.

Max leaned over to open the passenger side door for her; gentle, familiar, practiced. She got in like she’d done it a thousand times before, like it was normal. Like he was hers.

And then he walked around, got into the driver's seat, and drove off.

Something was off and I could smell it. Max said they were business partners but the interaction I just saw between both of them said something entirely different. They looked like lovers.

All of this seemed like a grand master plan, like a chess game and with each move I could tell that I was being played.

I didn’t even realize I had gripped the steering wheel so hard until my knuckles ached. The light turned green, and still, I sat there.

Motionless.

Stunned.

Because for all the kind words, his protectiveness, his flowers, his declaration of love, his offers to step in and raise a child that wasn’t his…

He was scheming something and maybe just maybe Kimberley is his accomplice.

My breath caught, tangled in my throat.

It didn’t make sense.

Or maybe it made too much sense.

The traffic behind me began to honk.

But I couldn’t move.