Chapter 22

I stepped into the living room, the familiar scent of my mother’s favorite candle wafting through the air. She was curled up on the couch, a steaming mug of tea in her hands. “Hey Mom,” I said softly, settling down beside her.

She smiled at me, the lines around her eyes crinkling. “Cora, sweetheart. It’s good to have you home.”

I leaned into her, the warmth of her presence a balm to my frayed nerves. “It’s good to be home,” I murmured, my eyes drifting to the family photos that adorned the walls. Memories of happier times, before the world had gone topsy-turvy.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our tea and enjoying each other’s company. It was a rare moment of peace, a respite from the chaos that had become my life. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the room, and I found myself lulled by the steady rhythm of my mother’s breathing.

I watched the steam curling up from her mug, the scent of chamomile mingling with the candle’s fragrance, and I allowed myself to sink into the comfort of the moment. It was moments like these, simple and unadorned, that I cherished the most—the quiet solidarity that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It was a stark contrast to the dark and twisted world of my novels, where silence often preceded a shocking revelation or a brutal turn of events. Here, in the heart of my childhood home, it was just a peaceful interlude, a chance to recharge before diving back into the complexities of my dual life.

Eventually, my mother broke the silence. “Cora, I have to ask,” she began, her voice gentle but firm. “Are you really dating Haides?”

My heart thundered in my chest, a symphony of guilt and exhilaration that painted my cheeks a vivid shade of crimson. The words tumbled from my lips, barely audible, yet laden with the weight of my confession. “Yes, Mom,” I murmured, my gaze dropping to the worn fabric of the sofa that desperately needed to be replaced. “We’ve been talking for a while now. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner.” The admission hung in the air, a tangible testament to the secret life I’d been nurturing—a life that now felt as fragile as the fine china resting on the table between us.

She studied me for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “But what about the fans? You told them…”

I sighed, the weight of my lies pressing down on me, especially this one. “I know, Mom. I lied to them. Haides and I weren’t dating before the book, but we are now.” The words felt strange on my tongue, a truth wrapped in a lie.

My mother reached out, her hand covering mine. “Cora, I may not understand everything that’s going on in your life,” she said softly, “but I’m here for you, no matter what.”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, the sincerity in her voice nearly undoing me. “Thank you, Mom,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. “That means everything to me.”

We lapsed into silence once more, the air between us thick with unspoken words. I knew that my mother would never truly understand the strange, twisted path my life had taken. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. She was there for me, and that was enough.

As the evening wore on, the conversation with Mom flowed like a gentle stream, winding its way through less treacherous terrain. We sank into the familiar rhythm of discussing the garden, a shared passion that always brought a smile to my face.

“The dahlias are simply stunning this year,” I remarked, recalling the vibrant blooms that greeted me each morning.

Mom nodded, her eyes lighting up with pride. “I’ve been experimenting with companion planting. The marigolds seem to deter the pests, and the bees can’t get enough of them.”

I listened intently, her enthusiasm infectious. It was grounding to talk about something so normal, so removed from the dark corners of my life that had recently taken center stage.

The topic shifted to neighborhood gossip, a harmless pastime that had always been a guilty pleasure of ours. Mrs. Henderson’s new cat, a mischievous tabby that had taken to climbing the trellis outside her bedroom window, provided a welcome distraction. We laughed together, imagining the poor woman’s surprise each morning as she discovered the feline’s latest escapade.

As we chuckled, Mom casually mentioned the new recipe she’d been eager to try—a savory pumpkin and sage risotto. “I thought it would be a nice change from our usual Sunday dinner,” she said, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“That sounds delicious,” I replied, my mouth watering at the thought. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

The tension that had been knotted in my shoulders since the moment I’d stepped through the front door began to dissipate. The guilt I’d been carrying, heavy and relentless, slowly ebbed away as I immersed myself in the comfort of our conversation.

For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to forget about Haides, the book, and the chaos that had consumed my life. Here, in the warmth of my childhood home, with the person and things I loved, I found a semblance of peace.

I leaned back against the couch, a contented sigh escaping my lips. Mom reached over, her hand gently patting mine. “It’s good to see you relax, Cora,” she said softly. “You’ve been so wrapped up in your writing lately. It’s nice to have you back.”

I smiled at her, grateful beyond words. “It’s good to be back, Mom,” I murmured, meaning every syllable.

It was in this moment I realized that this—the simple pleasure of sharing stories and laughter with my mother—was what I had been missing. It was the anchor that kept me grounded, the light that guided me through the darkest of times.

And in that moment, I was exactly where I needed to be.