CHAPTER FOUR

LIANA'S POV

By the time I was done setting up and ensuring that the code was up and running, I stepped out to break the news but the house was quiet when I emerged.

Mum was not there and Camilla was sleeping, balled up like a cinnamon roll on the couch, drooling on her favorite stuffed bunny. I didn't want to wake her up. I needed to express my happiness but a two year old wasn't going to suffer for that.

I waited, paced, stared at the clock a thousand times. When she finally opened the back door, rubbing her hands on her skirt and complaining about the curious neighbor's dog all over again, I almost grabbed her.

"Mum!"

She turned round sharply, having been startled. "Jesus, Liana. You almost killed me."

"I'm sorry, I just… Mum, It's done. I got a  text from Keon. The flight is booked. I'm leaving next Friday."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

I nodded, suddenly breathless again. “Kion said everything's ready. The papers, the logistics, it’s all set. We’re leaving.”

Her mouth dropped open for a second. “Oh, thank you, God!” she exclaimed, pressing her palm to her chest. “Oh my God! Finally, Liana! Finally!”

She pulled me into a firm hug. I felt her chest heaving and falling fast, as mine was. Her voice was trembling. "God has done it. You can't even imagine how I've prayed. My daughter, after all you'vebeen through."

"I'm not done yet," I replied, beaming, eyes already moist. "There's more."

"What more?"

"The code. My code. Red Corp simulation succeeded. My code was accepted."

Her yell came close to waking Camilla.

“Shut up! No way! You're kidding."

"I promise I'm not. The system lit up green. Mum, it worked—the thing that kept bouncing back as a rejection? It worked.”

She grasped my face in her hands, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. "Do you realize what this means? Do you realize what this means, Liana? Your long days are wrapping up, baby. All those late nights and prayers—they’re finally paying off. Things are about to get a lot better."

We laughed. We cried. We danced around the lounge like two teens who'd just won the lottery, barefoot on the tiles, spinning in each other’s arms while the early morning light slanted through the curtains. And right at that instant, a sleepy-eyed, squinty Camilla stumbled into the room.

"Mummy," she slurred, rubbing one eye with the back of her fist, "why you two dancing like party people?"

"Because," I bent to scoop her up, holding her warm little body close around my neck, "we have some news!"

Her arms dangled loosely around my shoulders like a sleepy sloth. "Is it pancake day?"

"No, baby. We're going on that trip I told you about."

"To the zoo?"

"Cam!” I shouted amidst gulps of laughter. “To another country."

That made her shine like a lantern. "Yay! I am going to make new friends."

“Yes, you will, darling,” I said, giving her a kiss on her chin before letting her go and turning back to Mum.

The moment she was out of my arms, she ran to the middle table, grabbed the jar of Nutella, and began unscrewing the lid while gazing at the TV remote.

"Camilla Grace!" Mum yelled just in time. "Don't you even think about putting peanut butter on the remote!"

"It's Nutella, grandma," Camilla said innocently.

"I don't care what it is. That remote is not your toast."

"But Mummy say Nutella is marvelous on weekdays!"

"I did not…" I paused, blinked. "Okay, I might have said that once."

"You said it twice," Camilla told me with a stern nod.

The chaos descended into laughter again. I scooped up Camilla as she laughed, tossing her lightly onto the pillow mountain on the couch. Her laughter flooded the room like sunlight.

"Fine, Moana," I told her, tickling her belly. "I'll let the Nutella on toast. Not the remote."

"I sorta like Moana," she laughed.

"I know, baby. We all do."

……….

It all happened very fast after that day. Papers were signed. I started clearing out the storage unit that was packed with old projects and prototypes. Mum packed, humming every now and then as she folded the clothes. Camilla dashed around the house, trying to pack all the crayons and toys in the world.

Amidst all this, I would catch Mum staring at me a lot. Like she was memorizing my face.

"Are you okay?" I asked her one evening as we folded Camilla's bedtime stories.

She smiled. "I'm just proud of you. You took the pain he gave you and made something out of it.".

That hit me harder than I had expected. I took her hand and grasped it. "I had to. For me. For her."

Friday came like a sneaky storm.

I didn't sleep well last night. Just lay in bed, holding Camilla's tiny hand, hoping she would remember all this when she grew up. The fight. The quiet battles. The kitchen dance with her grandma. The Nutella and the remote.

Mum dropped us at the airport that morning. The ride was a silent one, too many thoughts in all our minds. When we reached the terminal, she pulled over, spun around in her seat, and grasped my hand.

"I'll visit you," she said. "Always."

I nodded, eyes stinging. "I know."

"And take care of Moana."

"She's Camilla," I replied with a soft laugh. "Moana's her alter ego."

Mum smiled and gazed at Camilla, brushing a curl from her forehead. "Be good for your mummy. And no Nutella on anything except bread."

Camilla performed a sleepy thumbs-up. "I pinky promise."

And then it was time. The airport buzzed around us—announcements echoing, wheels clacking against tiles, the scent of brewed coffee and jet fuel heavy in the air. As I walked through the departure doors, Camilla clutched my hand firmly and whispered, "Mummy… does this country have pancakes?"

I smiled through the tears. "So many pancakes, baby."

And with that, we stepped forward.

Into a new life.