The morning carried quiet excitement. It was not loud or relentless, but it stirred up gently inside of Thalma, like something hopeful without testing the waters. Thalma moved through her apartment with light steps taking a glance at every corner of her room. Thinking of things she will leave behind and how much she will miss the comfort of her room. She folded the last set of clothes, zipping her suitcase shut and pausing every now and then just in case she forgot something important.
When the suitcase sat upright by the door, she reached out for her diary. It felt heavier than usual in her hands, thick with confessions, unfinished thoughts and emotions she trapped between lines. She opened it slowly letting the pages fall where they wished and whispered grace in every ink.
"Dear Diary
If this is the beginning let it be. It tis is the ending, let it be kind. I am carrying myself to a place that once felt like warmth. I don't know who I'll be when I arrive but I hope I become softer, braver and less tired."
She closed the diary without rereading the words. Some things are meant to be felt not examined.
At the airport, everything moved quickly. Makes her remember what it felt like arriving at the airport with her dad sometimes years back. Every memory came like a slow burn. "My dad has never been bad to me" she mumbled
Announcements kept echoing, footsteps hurried, strangers brushing past one another without pause. She followed the sign, answered questions, handed over documents and her mind floating somewhere between excitement and fear.
When the aeroplane finally rose up to the sky, England shrank beneath her, swallowed by clouds. Suspended in continents for hours. Thalma rested her head against the seat, listening to the steady rhythm of the flight while having a window seat view. Somewhere above the world , she allowed herself to smile a little.
Morocco waited in a few minutes and with it, a chapter she never dared imagine…
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Morocco."
The announcement drifted through the cabin, soft but unmistakable. Thalma opened her eyes as the plane tilted gently, the earth slowly revealing itself beneath the clouds. The land looked warmer, golden, wide, alive in a way England never quite was.
Her heart beat faster. By the time the plane touched down, she was holding her breath without realizing it.
The doors opened, and warmth greeted her immediately. Not just the temperature but something deeper. The air felt fuller, heavier with familiarity she couldn't explain. Voices blended in accents she had missed without knowing it. She followed the stream of passengers through the terminal, her suitcase rolling behind her like a loyal shadow.
Then she saw her. Evelyn stood near the arrivals gate, elegant and glowing, eyes scanning faces with unmistakable anticipation. When their gazes met, something in Thalma loosened.
Her mother smiled first, wide, radiant, the kind of smile that reached the soul.
"My little princess," Evelyn whispered as she pulled Thalma into her arms.
The embrace was warm, protective and real.
For a moment, Thalma forgot how to be strong.
The airport felt alive in a way Thalma wasn't prepared for.
Warm air wrapped around her skin, thick and scented with unfamiliar spices and fuel. Voices rose and fell in languages she half-recognized, laughter spilling freely among the crowd. It was louder than England, brighter too, as though the world here refused to move quietly.
Evelyn held her at arm's length, eyes roaming her face as if checking for injuries time had failed to hide.
"You've grown," Evelyn said softly, brushing a thumb across Thalma's cheek. "England is feeding you well."
Thalma smiled, though something twisted gently in her chest. Her mother looked happy, truly happy. The kind of happiness that settled comfortably on a person, unapologetic and complete. She noticed the ring on Evelyn's finger, simple but certain, and looked away before the thought could fully form.
On the drive home, the city unfolded like a painting still in progress. Buildings washed in warm colors, narrow streets humming with life, vendors calling out to passersby. Thalma pressed her forehead against the window, letting the unfamiliarity distract her.
"You must be tired," Evelyn said, glancing at her. "We'll rest when we get home. Everyone is excited to meet you."
'EVERYONE' The word lingered.
Thalma nodded, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. She wanted to ask questions about how long the house had been full, about whether missing someone ever truly faded but she kept them to herself. Some truths were fragile. Others were simply inconvenient.
As the car moved deeper into the city, Thalma realized something quietly unsettling.
She felt safe and somehow, that scared her more than loneliness ever had.
As the car slowed in front of the house, Thalma's heartbeat shifted.
The building was larger than she expected, warm lights glowing behind tall windows, voices drifting faintly from inside. Laughter. Familiar, yet not meant for her. Evelyn turned off the engine and reached for her hand.
"Home," her mother said, smiling.
Thalma nodded, though the word felt unfamiliar on her tongue.
She stepped out of the car, the air cooler now, evening settling gently over the city. Before they reached the door, it opened from the inside. A man's voice followed…deep, easy, comfortable.
Another life. Another rhythm she hadn't rehearsed for.
Evelyn hesitated for just a second. Not long enough to notice unless you were looking for it.
"This is where we are now," she said quietly.
Thalma adjusted the strap of her bag, her diary pressing against her side like a reminder. She lifted her gaze, preparing herself for faces she had never imagined, for a version of her mother's world she had only heard about in fragments.
The door stood open. Thalma took one step forward. And wondered briefly, achingly whether she was walking into a place meant to hold her… or one she would have to learn how to survive.