Chapter 25 #2
She takes my hand in hers, her eyes wet with unshed tears.
“I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve always had the hardest time trying to understand you, Eve.
You are I, we are so alike, so stubborn.
We have always fought. I wanted your future secure, and you just…
You just wanted more, and I couldn’t understand why.
Why you want to go to work when you could have a husband to look after you?
I just wanted you to be settled. But when I saw you in that police station, and you looked scared of us, of me…
You spent hours there thinking you couldn’t call us because we wouldn’t protect you.
That’s when I realized I had made you think we couldn’t be relied on, that I had pushed you away. ”
I purse my lips. “You—”
“I tried calling you, and your young man answered the phone two nights ago.”
I still. “My what?”
“Caleb.” My mother smiles now, albeit a little hesitantly. “He’s a good boy. A smart one. He cares for you.”
“Caleb talked to you on the phone?” I choke out. “What did he say?”
My mother shakes her head. “Some hard truths. Some things I needed to hear. He said I was going to lose you if I didn’t act like a proper mother, and he said what you just did.
That it was because of me that Luis went so far.
He also—” She cuts herself off for a moment.
“—He said I should be proud of what you have achieved, and that one day you would just disappear from our lives completely because we never appreciated you.”
I stare at her in stunned silence. “Caleb said all that? Why?” The last part is torn from me.
“Your young man was angry on your behalf.” She looks happy.
“I knew you made the right choice in that moment. He didn’t care that he was standing against your family.
He was right. You have achieved everything all on your own, and I should have been proud of you.
I’ve known that for a long time. I have been proud of your achievements, but I never said so.
I kept trying to force you into what I thought was right for you.
Because of me, you suffered. I’m sorry.”
I never once imagined my mother would reach out and make amends. This doesn’t feel like the mother I know. “So,” I begin slowly, “you’re here because of Caleb?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m here because he told me what I already knew. I was losing you, and I love you, Eve. I don’t want to lose our relationship. I will try to change.”
My eyes burn with emotion. “Mamá.”
“Marco said you will need time, and I—”
“I do need time, Mamá.” I lean my head against her shoulder. “But I’m really glad you came.”
She squeezes my hands. “So am I. Bring your young man around for dinner someday. When you’re ready. I like him. He protects you. He protected you when we didn’t.”
I open my mouth, and then nod, whispering, “Okay. Alright.”
I let out a quiet sigh. There’s so much hurt inside me. A part of me says not to believe her, not to trust her intentions, but the other part of me, the girl who’s been neglected for so long, wants that second chance. She wants another chance to have her mother.
I wet my lips. “I’m almost late for work.”
Getting up, I wait. For the comment about how I’m always working.
For the judgment about my job, about how I should be home, about how women shouldn’t be working so much, about how I should be focusing on other things.
For the sharp words about how I’m wasting my time, throwing away my life on something that doesn’t matter.
But they don’t come.
Instead, she stands abruptly and moves to the counter. “I made you lunch,” she says, her back to me. “For the office.”
I blink. “You... what?”
She opens the fridge and pulls out two containers.
One is smaller, the other larger. She sets them both on the counter and gestures to them.
“This one is for you. The other has empanadas and rice for your colleagues.” She pauses, her hand resting on the larger container.
“When your father used to go to work, I would always pack him a lot of food to share. He liked that.”
I swallow, emotion clogging my throat.
“You can share if you want. Or not. It’s up to you.
” She’s walking on eggshells around me, both of us circling each other, not wanting to say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing.
I stare at the rigid line of her shoulders, at the way her hands are now gripping the edge of the counter like she needs something to hold onto.
“Thank you,” I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper. She nods once, then busies herself with wiping down the counter that’s already clean. The silence stretches, and something in my chest loosens. Just a little.
“Will you...” I hesitate, my fingers curling around the back of my chair. “Will you still be here when I get back?”
She looks up at me then, and for the first time since she arrived, she looks uncertain. Vulnerable. Like she’s not sure if I’m asking her to stay or to leave. Her throat works as she swallows. “If you want me to be,” she says quietly.
My chest aches. “I’d like that.”
Something softens in her face—not quite a smile, but close. A crack in the armor she’s worn for so long, I’d forgotten there was anything underneath.
“I need to get ready,” I murmur.
She nods, and I turn toward my bedroom, my steps quicker now. I change into my work clothes and grab my bag, check for my keys, my phone. The whole time, my heart won’t stop racing. She’s still here. She’s staying. She wants to stay. She made me lunch like Dad used to get.
When I come back out, she’s clearing the table, stacking plates with efficient movements. The two containers sit on the counter, waiting for me. I pick them up, holding them carefully. They’re still warm.
I pause at the door, the containers in one hand, my bag in the other. “Mamá?” She glances at me, a dish towel in her hands. “Would you...” I swallow. “Would you maybe want to go out for dinner with me? Tonight?”
She goes very still. The dish towel hangs limply in her hands, and I watch her face—the way she’s considering it, weighing it.
The silence stretches. Finally, slowly, she folds the dish towel and sets it on the counter.
She wipes her hands on her pants, taking her time, and when she looks at me again, there’s something different in her eyes.
“Yes,” she says. “I’d like that.”
A smile breaks across my face before I can stop it. “Okay. Good.”
“Okay.”
I open the door and hesitate. I should leave. I’m going to be late. But I linger for one more second, looking at my mother standing in my kitchen, and I feel a surge of emotion. This whole situation is fragile and terrifying, yet I’m hopeful.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I say.
“Be safe,” she replies. Still gruff. Still her.
I step outside and close the door behind me, smiling like an idiot as I walk to my car, the containers warm against my chest. My mother is staying. My mother wants to have dinner with me. My mother made me breakfast and lunch—lunch for me and my colleagues, the way she used to do for Dad.
It’s not fixed. Not even close. There’s years of damage between us—years of silence and resentment and words we’ve thrown like weapons.
Years of me being invisible in my own family, of learning to survive on my own because no one else was going to take care of me.
But this... This is something. This is her reaching out for the first time, really reaching, and I’m not going to waste it.
I slide into the driver’s seat, carefully placing the containers on the passenger seat, and start the engine. For the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe—just maybe—we might actually find our way back to each other.
* * *
The elevator doors slide open, and I step into the office with the two containers balanced in one arm, my bag slung over the other shoulder. The morning light streams through the windows, and for a second, everything feels almost normal.
Then I see him.
Caleb is already at his desk, leaning back in his chair. He’s scrolling through something on his phone, his tie loosened just enough to look effortlessly put together. The sight of him makes my heart flutter, and after the emotional morning with my mother, I find myself craving his steadiness.
Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips as I make my way to my desk, setting down the containers and my bag before taking my seat. “It was weird waking up without you. I’m so used to you snoring.”
He gives me an insulted look. “I don’t snore. I’ve never snored a day in my life.”
“How would you know?” I try not to laugh. “You’re passed out. Snoring.”
Caleb grabs the arm of my chair, pulling me closer. “Liar.”
“Prove it.” I taunt him softly, and a smile spreads on his face as he slides his hand around my nape, pulling me closer, his voice a whisper against my skin.
“You just like pissing me off first thing in the morning.”
His mouth brushes against mine. Once. Twice.
A soft sigh leaves my lips. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine. “Rough morning?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “But I did miss you. It was weird without all your morning chaos.” My admission makes him happy. It’s in his eyes.
I let out a startled yelp as he pulls me right out of my seat and onto his lap in one fluid motion. “Caleb!” I protest, glancing around the empty office. “What are you doing?”
“Nobody’s here yet,” he murmurs, his arms wrapping around my waist. “And you look like you could use this.”
I should get up. I should maintain some semblance of professionalism. But his warmth is exactly what I need right now, and I find myself melting against him, my head resting against his shoulder.
“Do I really snore?” He looks down at me. I’ve heard the term ‘puppy dog eyes’ but this is my first time experiencing them. I try not to look at him directly.
“No.”
He pinches me lightly. “Then stop bullying me.”