This Isn't Closure

★。＼｜／。★

VANESSA DAVIS

★。／｜＼。★

My mother seemed to have aged gracefully, and it infuriated me more than I expected. She looked like someone who hadn't endured the wreckage she left behind, someone untouched by the destruction she caused. I forced a tight smile, biting down hard on the bitter insults swarming in my head, begging to spill into the open. She looked at me, her eyes already swimming with tears.

“My god, Vanessa, you’re all grown.”

I felt the words cut through me like a knife. All grown. What did she expect after twenty years? That I’d freeze in time, waiting for her to decide we mattered again? I swallowed the lump in my throat and replied, my voice clipped, barely holding back the sarcasm.

“Yes, twenty years apart does that. Uh, you look good. I didn’t know you had remarried.”

Her face flushed, a fleeting expression of guilt crossing her features before she looked away. “I’m sorry... I didn’t want to explain everything over the phone. Come in, meet Tom and the kids.”

Kids? The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Kids. Plural. She had more kids. A whole new family. My stomach churned. I turned around to glance at Colton, who was leaning against the car, flipping through something on his phone, completely uninterested in whatever mess was unfolding here. Lucky him.

Thank goodness. If he were paying attention, I’d be mortified. How could I explain this without sounding pathetic? The guy has a good, loving family. Mine is in tatters—one quarter fled, one quarter buried in silence, and the rest of us trying to pretend the cracks don’t show.

I forced my legs to move, stepping into her pristine little house. The smell of pancakes hit me like a wall. It was warm and welcoming, something out of a Hallmark movie. A picture-perfect family morning. I almost laughed at the absurdity. Was this her new life? Waking up to make pancakes in a cozy kitchen for her shiny new family? The hypocrisy made my blood boil.

Ezra hates breakfast. Lionel sleeps through it after long hospital shifts. Dad skips it, like I do, though for reasons neither of us will ever admit. Breakfast was never a thing in our house because when Dad used to work as an officer Mom would say she couldn’t make breakfast for a bogus reason that seemed valid at the time. But here she was, flipping pancakes like some doting mother. A mother who abandoned her first children without a second glance. I shoved the thought away, forcing my face into neutrality.

“This is Tom—”

“Actually,” I cut her off sharply, my voice cold and even, “I don’t think I want to meet him. Can we just find somewhere to talk? No offense, Tom, but I can’t say anything nice to you or your children right now.”

Tom’s eyes flickered with what looked like understanding, which somehow made it worse. What kind of man marries someone who abandons their kids? He gave my mother a quick kiss on the cheek and ushered the two kids—no, not kids, they were practically adults—into the kitchen. They didn’t even glance my way, which said a lot about the woman I had gone through all this trouble to see.

“Come with me into the living room,” she said, her voice overly gentle, as though trying to soothe a wounded animal. “We have so much to talk about.”

The nerve of her. Acting like this was just another family reunion like she hadn’t ripped apart the very foundation of my life. I followed her stiffly, every step feeling like walking into a lion’s den. Except the lion was me, and I was ready to pounce.

We reached the living room, and she gestured for me to sit. She perched on the edge of the couch, smiling nervously as if this was some awkward first date. I stared at her for a moment, trying to keep the rage bubbling inside me from exploding too soon. But who was I kidding? I’m not someone who keeps her emotions in check. Not ever.

The only time I manage it is when I’m undercover. And even then, the second I’m out, I head straight to the boxing gym or therapy to unload everything I held back. So why the hell would I hold back now? For her?

I didn’t sit. Instead, I let it all out in a voice that was dangerously calm but shaking with every ounce of pain I’d carried for two decades.

“What the hell? You run off, after having three children, to start a new family and have two more? What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what you put us through? You broke four hearts—mine, Ezra’s, Lionel’s, and Dad’s. And you have the audacity to sit there and smile at me like nothing happened? The only reason I’m here is to know why. Why the fuck did you do this?”

My voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, I felt exposed. Vulnerable. I hated that. I hated her for making me feel that way. I crossed my arms, forcing myself to hold her gaze, daring her to say something—anything—that might make this make sense.

But she didn’t. She just sat there, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, her mouth opening and closing like she didn’t know where to start. And that silence? That silence made me angrier than any excuse she could’ve come up with.

"God, woman, tell me why the hell you contacted me after all these years. And how did you even find out where I live?" My voice cracked slightly, a mix of anger and disbelief tightening my throat.

She placed her trembling hands on her knees, her gaze darting away like she couldn’t bear to look at me. “I fell out of love with your father.”

I froze. The air seemed to still be around us. “You what?”

Her voice softened as if trying to soothe the blow she was delivering. “Your father and I mated when I was sixteen. I wasn’t... ready. I had just moved here, and people stared at me like I was an exotic animal anytime I mentioned I was a mermaid—well, a siren, technically. He was kind, and patient. We fell in love before we even realized we were fated together. After that, it was just... us. Always us. There was no space for me to figure out who I was. I lived in constant fear that he wouldn’t come back from his missions.”

Her words tumbled out, but they felt rehearsed, hollow. She wrung her hands nervously as if that could make it easier to say. “One day, when I was out shopping, I met Tom. A southern tourist, here to explore. We started talking, and it felt... different. Light. I didn’t tell him I was married, and when we—” she paused, lowering her eyes—“when we slept together, I realized how badly I had betrayed your father. Tom didn’t know, but the guilt was eating me alive. When he found out, he wanted to leave, but... I couldn’t let him go. He asked me to choose.”

“And you chose him.” The words left my mouth like poison, my voice shaking with suppressed rage. “God, I am so stupid.” Tears burned down my face, not for myself but for my father—a man who gave so much, only to lose everything. A man who still loved this woman.

“Vanessa,” she pleaded, leaning closer, her eyes glistening. “It wasn’t easy. It broke my heart, too. I loved him—your father—and I love you. I love your brothers. But Tom—”

“You knew him for what? Weeks? And you threw away decades for that? For him?” I gestured vaguely toward the kitchen, where her new family was probably laughing over pancakes. “Why did you contact me? Why now?”

Her voice wavered. “I... I called your company. I told them I was your mother, gave them details only I would know. They gave me your address.” She paused, looking at me like she was about to deliver the final blow. “Vanessa, my daughter—Kelly—she’s nineteen. She’s... she’s really sick. She needs a kidney. Mine aren’t viable, and Tom’s blood type doesn’t match. But you’re a universal donor. You could save her life.”