I hated how easily I said it. Like I owed them my presence.
For a moment, I thought of telling her about my day. About the way work was clawing at me from all angles, about the fatigue in my bones, the cramps that made me want to curl up and disappear, about how I nearly cried in the break room after someone took my water bottle by accident. I opened my mouth, desperate for some kind of human connection, even if it was with her.
But just as I began, "I've been really—"
"Mommyyy," a high-pitched, sugary voice cooed from the background. Kara.
My fingers tensed around the phone.
"Yes, my darling?" my mother answered, her voice instantly morphing into something soft and warm. Honeyed. A version of her I'd never known.
"Who are you talking to?" Kara asked, like it was a crime for their mother to be on the phone when she needed her.
"No one important," she replied, laughing gently. "Just an old friend."
I blinked.
An old friend.
My thumb absentmindedly found its way to my lips and I began biting it, a stupid, old habit I thought I'd grown out of. My teeth pressed hard into the skin until I tasted a bit of copper.
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
"I'm hungry," Kara whined. "Dad told me to tell you to come eat with us already. You haven't even served the rice."
"Lazy girl," my mother scolded, but it was warm and teasing. "Go sit down, I'll bring it."
Kara giggled — really giggled — and I could hear the buzz of warmth on the other end of the line. The sound of a home. Laughter. Footsteps. Plates clinking. Something that could've been mine too. But never was.
And then her voice returned, brisk and already halfway gone. "Alright, I need to go. I'll see you soon."
Before I could say another word, the line went dead.
I stared at the screen, my heart a hollow little drum.
She didn't even say goodbye.
---
I made it out of the building with barely a minute to spare. My bag weighed heavier than usual on my shoulder, my coat flapping around my legs as I sprinted across the dimly lit street toward the station. The city was quiet at this hour, tired and yawning, like it was ready to shut down and disappear.
The train station came into view. My chest thudded with hope.
But just as I reached the steps, I heard the mechanical sigh of the doors closing, and then the low rumble of the last train pulling away from the platform. I stood there, panting, watching it disappear down the tunnel like some cruel metaphor.
I blinked back the burn in my eyes. Of course. Of course I'd miss it. Because today just couldn't end without one final jab.
It was like the universe was hell-bent on punishing me for a crime I didn't remember committing.
I didn't want to cry. Crying felt like surrender. So instead, I shoved my hands in my pockets, turned, and started walking.
Maybe halfway home. Maybe all the way. I didn't care anymore.
The cold wind threaded its fingers through my hair, biting at my cheeks and ears. I welcomed the sting. It kept me grounded, kept me from spiraling. The streets were mostly empty save for cars zooming on the road and a few straggler... people holding hands, rushing home, existing in bubbles I'd never be allowed into.
As I walked, I passed a small building where a couple stood beneath a streetlight, laughing. A tiny toddler waddled between them, bundled up in a puffy jacket, his mittened hands reaching for the father's leg while the mother ruffled his hair. They looked tired. But they looked... content. Like nothing in the world could crack the safety of that little triangle they had.
And for some stupid reason, I saw myself there. Not exactly as the woman, not even with that man—but... with Aaron. His laugh. His warmth. A future.
The image was so soft, so painfully warm, that I smiled. Genuinely. For the first time in what felt like forever.
It hurt.
A few blocks later, the smile faded as I stopped in front of a brightly lit billboard mounted above a quiet bookstore. It was an ad campaign for something, I couldn't even tell what but the question was scrawled in huge bold letters across the image of a sunrise:
What is your dream?
I stood there, staring at it like it had spoken directly to me. The question echoed in my head, louder than I expected.
What was my dream?
I hugged myself tighter and tilted my head up, letting the wind hit my face again.
I want a family, I thought. One that loves me no matter what. One that won't leave when I mess up. One that sees me, chooses me, stays.
My throat clenched, and my steps slowed.
But what if I never get it?
That was the quiet thought that slipped in next, cold, cruel, unwelcome.
What if I never have that?
What if I was never meant for it?
The sound of my phone buzzing in my coat pocket snapped me back to reality. I fished it out with numb fingers, expecting... I don't know what. A message from Mom, Aaron, maybe. A client. Spam.
But it was a call. From a name I'd changed just this morning.
Evil man K 👿
My eyebrows shot up. I stared at the screen like it was some kind of glitch.
Of all people.
And of all times.
My thumb hovered over the screen. Part of me wanted to ignore it. The other part... maybe the lonelier, stupider part, pressed accept before I could talk myself out of it.
I picked up the call, trying to wipe the remaining wetness from my face and swallow down the lump threatening to give me away.
"Hello?" I said, keeping my voice light, even adding a little hum at the end like I wasn't on the verge of crumbling into myself.
And then he spoke.