Rihaan #2
WHEN I FINALLY MOVED around the cabin, it was then that I realised, how much of Ma was still trapped in the walls.
Dev hadn’t touched a single thing.
A photograph sat on the far end of the kitchen counter of the four of us at kids, the memory so faded, it felt like made up.
Moving closer, I noticed the frame hidden behind and picked it up.
My breath left me.
A baby stared back from the photograph. Round cheeks. Barely any hair. A ridiculous knitted hat pulled too low over my forehead.
Me.
Mum was holding me against her chest, her face turned towards mine. She wasn’t looking at the camera.
She was looking at me. There was a softness in her expression that I hadn’t known existed in my memories.
I stared at it for longer than I should have.
I couldn’t remember being this small.
Couldn’t remember her holding me like that.
The photograph suddenly felt heavier in my hands.
I’d spent years believing that by the time I was old enough to remember, she’d already been slipping away from us. But this picture was proof that once, before everything fractured, there had been this.
Her.
Me.
A version of us that had existed before I knew what abandonment felt like.
I placed the frame back down carefully.
Then the doorbell rang.
I looked towards the hallway.
My body reacted before my brain did.
I checked the time.
09:47 PM.
Nobody should have been coming.
I walked towards the front door, glancing behind me once again. When I was sure she hadn’t woken up, I opened the front door.
A man stood outside in a dark coat, a leather briefcase in one hand. It almost made me think of a scene from a horror movie.
“Mr. Rihaan Patel?”
I blinked. “Yeah.”
He held out his hand.
“I’m Daniel Fraser. I'm an attorney representing your mother’s estate.”
My brows pulled together. “My mother's estate?”
“Yes.”
He reached into his briefcase and produced a thick album, bound in dark leather journal. Then an envelope.
“This was instructed to be delivered to you once you returned.”
I stared at the items. “Who sent it?”
“Your mother had asked for it to be delivered when you arrived here.”
My stomach tightened. “Now?”
He gave a small, apologetic smile. “Your brother has been handling most of the administrative matters with me. He called me to tell me about your arrival, so I could promptly deliver you.”
I looked at the envelope. “What's this?”
“I believe you'll find that explained inside.”
I almost laughed. “That's helpful.”
“I’ve learned not to spoil your mother’s surprises.”
There was something in the phrasing that made me glance at him.
He nodded towards the album. “She left very specific instructions.”
I took it, and the weight of it settled into my palms.
“Thank you.”
He dipped his head. “Of course.”
I shut the door.
For several seconds, I stood there without moving.
Then I carried everything to the kitchen and placed it on the counter beside the photograph.
I didn’t open it.
Not yet.
I couldn’t explain why.
Maybe because I’d already had enough memories for one evening.
I glanced towards the hallway again as a soft bang filtered through the cabin.
Maeve.
I found myself moving before I made the decision.
I knocked softly on her door.
“Maeve?”
“Yeah?”
Her voice was faint.
I opened the door.
She had just stepped out of the bathroom.
Her hair was damp around her face, and she'd changed into one of the oversized jumpers I’d packed for her earlier. Her sleeves swallowed most of her hands. She stood there staring at the room like she couldn't remember what she was supposed to do next.
Her eyes lifted to mine.
There was something lost in them.
Not confusion exactly. More like the world had become too large and she didn't know where to place herself inside it.
Something had happened.
“How can I help?”
Her brow furrowed. “I don't know.”
The honesty of it stopped me.
I stepped closer. “Can I hold your hand?”
She looked at me.
For a second, I thought she'd say no.
Then she nodded.
I held out my hand, her cold fingers slid into mine easily and I curled my fingers around hers slowly.
“What happened?”
She watched me. “Got too quiet, I guess. I started replaying it all in my head, and when the doorbell rang, it was like he was there.”
Her breath turned faster, and I gave her hand a squeeze. “Do something with me.”
“What?”
“Five-four-three-two-one.”
She frowned. “The grounding thing?”
I nodded. “I’ve used it before.”
“With who?”
“Raina.”
Her thumb moved against the side of my hand.
I squeezed once.
“Okay.”
I guided her towards the edge of the bed.
“Five things you can see.”
She looked around. “The lamp.”
I nodded.
“The window.”
“Good.”
“The tree outside.”
I waited.
“The bed.”
She swallowed. “My bag.”
“Four things you can feel.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“The blanket.”
“Okay.”
“The floor.”
“The sleeve.”
She gave her jumper a jerk.
I nodded.
“And you.”
She looked down at our joined hands.
Something moved across her face.
“Yeah.” I said softly. “Three things you can hear.”
She listened.
“The rain.”
I glanced towards the window.
“Good.”
“The heating.”
I waited.
“Your breathing.”
Something caught in my chest.
“Two things you can smell.”
She inhaled carefully.
“The wood.”
“Yeah.”
She closed her eyes for a moment.
“Your aftershave.”
I blinked.
I hadn’t expected that one.
She opened her eyes again.
“One thing you can taste.”
Her lips parted.
She hesitated.
“Mint.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then her face crumpled as she pulled her hand back.
There was no sob, but her shoulders pulled in as a single tear slipped.
Just one tear.
Then another.
They slipped down her cheeks quietly, almost apologetically, as though even crying needed permission.
I didn’t think, just pulled her towards me.
She folded into my chest.
Her hands caught in my jumper.
The sound she made was small. Broken.
My arms tightened around her.
I felt every shudder move through her body.
And somehow, the pain of it travelled straight through me.
My own throat burned. I'd spent my entire life thinking strength meant being the person who stood upright when everyone else fell. But holding her like this, I understood that sometimes strength was simply staying.
Her feet remained planted where they were.
She didn’t move.
“Maeve.”
A hiccup caught in her throat.
“You’re safe.”
She didn't answer.
I lowered my voice, repeating my words. “You’re safe.”
I ran one hand slowly down her back.
Once, before repeating myself.
“You’re safe.”
Again.
“You’re safe.”
I repeated my actions until her breathing gradually loosened.
The room went quiet except for the rain against the windows.
I looked towards the doorway. Beyond it sat the album my mother had left me. A life I’d spent years avoiding. A past I’d convinced myself I didn’t need to understand.
And now, somehow, both of us were sitting inside the pieces of it.
Maeve breathed softly against my shoulder.
I looked down at her.
Then closed my eyes, and repeated my words again.
You’re safe.
And somewhere, they’d become for me, just as much as they had for her.