Sarah checks her watch as she drives to see her mom. Her mother would surely be excited to see her. A warm smile tugged at her lips at the thought ; it had been a few weeks since they last saw each other.

Then her thoughts drifted to Meemaw. She hadn’t seen her in a while either. And truth be told, she wasn’t sure she missed her. Not in the way she used to. Meemaw had changed. This was the same woman who once brought her gifts after school, who smelled of fresh laundry and vanilla candles, who let her play with her expensive scarves and always called her "sweet pea." Now? She felt like a stranger. Cold. Distant. And why in God’s name had she told Ethan about Queen’s Mary?

Sarah sighed as she turned the wheel, swinging her black Range Rover into the familiar yard beside the house. She lingered a moment, engine off, hands on the steering wheel. Maybe she should go through the back door , it was quieter, safer. Meemaw might not be in the kitchen this time. But no. She changed her mind. She didn’t want to skulk around like a scared teenager. She was going to ask her, straight up.

Marching to the front door, she pressed the bell once and stood back. Almost instantly, the door opened.

"Sarah!" her mother beamed, stepping forward with arms wide open.

Sarah smiled faintly and let herself be folded into the hug. Her mother’s familiar perfume jasmine and something warm filled her nose, and for a moment, everything felt safe.

"You look tired, are you okay?" her mum asked, pulling back slightly to study her face.

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just... a lot on my mind."

"You didn’t tell me you were coming," her mum said, ushering her inside. "I would've made something proper."

"I just felt like seeing you," Sarah replied, stepping into the living room. The house smelled like baked bread and furniture polish home.

Her mum smiled warmly, brushing hair from her daughter’s face. "Well, I’m glad you came. You’ve been on my mind lately. You want tea?"

"Please," Sarah said, finally relaxing a little.

As her mum disappeared into the kitchen, Sarah’s eyes scanned the hallway. The sound of the kettle clicking on, the distant hum of TV from upstairs.

Her mother reappears and sits gently beside her on the couch. The words come pouring out of Sarah before she can even stop them, like a dam finally breaking. Her mother listens, always a sympathetic listener nodding slowly with each sentence, offering the kind of quiet comfort only a mother could give. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only concern and love.

She brushes a strand of hair behind Sarah’s ear, her gaze soft but searching.

"You haven’t really said much about Queen Mary," she says gently. "Are you excited at all?"

Sarah exhales and leans back against the cushion.

"I don’t know. I should be, right? It’s a fresh start… but it just doesn’t feel like one yet."

"Is it because of Ethan?" her mother asks, voice low, careful.

Sarah’s eyes drop to her hands, her fingers twisting at the hem of her jumper.

"No, please. Let’s not go there."

Her mum doesn’t push. She just offers a faint, knowing smile but says nothing.

Then Sarah adds, more bitterly than she intended,

"Meemaw told him I’m going to Queen Mary."

Her mother’s brows pull together, clearly surprised.

"Wait...Meemaw told him? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Sarah says flatly. "And she knows we’re not even speaking. I wanted to scream when he brought it up."

Her mum shakes her head, disappointed.

"I’ll talk to her. That wasn’t her place."

Sarah waves a dismissive hand.

"It’s done. Just hurts, you know? That she’s so willing to hand him updates on a silver platter, like he deserves a front row seat to my life."

"He doesn’t," her mother says firmly. Then, after a beat: "Maybe… she’s just trying to hold on to what’s familiar. She’s always been that way."

"Well, she can hold on without dragging me back into it."

A heavy silence settles between them before her mum stands and walks toward the kitchen. She flicks on the Bluetooth speaker and music fills the space. Something warm, nostalgic. Sarah smiles despite herself. They begin to sway together in the small kitchen, mouthing the lyrics, laughing when one of them misses a line. For a moment, everything feels like it used to, just the two of them, dancing through life’s harder moments.

Then a sharp click of heels slices through the comfort. The scent of cigarette smoke drifts in; harsh, familiar, and unwelcome. Sarah freezes. Her mother straightens, turning toward the doorway. Meemaw appears, standing like a specter of old habits and cold judgments. A fresh cigarette burns between her fingers, smoke curling upwards like a warning sign. Her lips twist, amused and unimpressed.

"Well, well," she says, voice gravelly. "You’ve been gone so long I almost forgot what your voice sounded like. No hug for your old Meemaw?"

Sarah’s eyes narrow slightly, but she forces a smile.

"Hello, Meemaw."

Her grandmother’s eyes gleam, emotion hiding behind sarcasm. Sarah approaches her slowly and offers a quick, dutiful hug, one that says "I’m doing this for Mum."

Without a word, she turns and heads upstairs to her old room. The air feels colder here, almost like the space had been holding its breath until she returned. She clicks on the radiator, rubbing her arms as she looks around.

The room hasn’t changed much. The same floral curtains, same bookshelf with half her childhood books. Everything looks preserved in time, like a museum of who she used to be.

She lingers by the window, remembering the mornings when her mum would gently wake her up for school. Her voice soft, the smell of toast drifting up from the kitchen. Sarah would grumble, dragging herself out of bed like it was the end of the world. A part of her wants to curl up and take a nap right here. Maybe even stay the night. But no, there’s too much to do. A different life waiting just around the corner.

She goes back down the stairs and finds her way to her mom's room.

“Hello?” she says gently, stepping in with a small smile as she sinks onto the bed.

“Oh honey!” her mum exclaims, clearly surprised but delighted. “Will you be staying for dinner? There’s chicken, fillet steaks, ice cream, soft cookies… all your favourites..” she trails off with a hopeful look.

Sarah smiles softly, already sensing her mum’s excitement just from having her around.

“Sorry, Mum,” she says, leaning a little closer. “I have other plans. I’m really, really busy, you know? There’s so much I have to do. My studies and everything.”

Her mum gives a tiny nod, the smile fading just a little but still holding steady.

“Gerald called,” she says after a pause. “He asked of you.”

Sarah looks away. Of course he did. It was always like that, just enough to seem like he cared, never enough to prove it.

“He said he’s working too hard these days, there’s hardly any time,” her mum continues.

Sarah doesn’t reply. She can feel her mother’s eyes studying her, quiet, heavy, watching each breath like it might reveal what’s really going on beneath the surface.

“What?” Sarah finally asks, meeting her gaze.

“Nothing,” her mother replies quickly, brushing it off.

They sit there for a moment, wrapped in silence. One waiting. The other holding something back.

Then, her mum finally speaks again, voice low and distant.

“Your Meemaw rarely goes out these days,” she says. Her eyes flicker with pity and worry. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this. You’ve got your own life now...your studies, your past relationship…”

“Oh, it’s fine, Mum. I don’t mind,” Sarah says softly, moving closer again. “I actually needed to clear my head. I didn’t want to just stay in my room crying all day. That’s why I came to see you.”

Suddenly, her mum’s eyes fill, and tears spill down her cheeks without warning.

“Mom! What is it?” Sarah reaches for her, alarmed by the sudden shift.

“It’s not fair,” she whispers, voice trembling. “It’s not fair.”

Sarah wraps her arms around her, trying to pull her close, grounding them both.

“What’s not fair?”

Her mum shakes her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I’m being stupid,” she mutters, turning her face away.

But Sarah feels a sharp sadness push through her chest, like a wave she didn’t see coming. Her mother, always composed, now crumbling like this. It frightened her. That sadness twisted into anger. And in her gut, she already knew who this was about.

“He can be a selfish bastard, you know,” she mutters under her breath, jaw tight.

And then, it hits her. The puzzle clicks together. It wasn’t Meemaw. It was him.

“Mom… what happened?”

Her mum stays silent for a moment, then finally breathes out a sentence that feels like a blow to the chest.

“He’s got a new family,” she says, almost as if the words taste bitter. “Kate said it’s none of our business. That I should move on with my life.”

Sarah’s breath catches.

“But it’s not fair,” her mum says, voice cracking. “Me finding out through Kate… through church members. The whole world knew, apparently. Except me.” She lets out a breathless laugh, one that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I mean, he’s free to do whatever he wants, right?” she continues bitterly. “He’s a man. He got tired of the marriage and opted out. Isn’t that what they all do?” She scoffs. “He didn’t even have the decency to tell me himself.”

Sarah doesn’t know what to say. She stares at her mother, then at the ceiling like the right words might be written there. But nothing comes. Not anger. Not surprise. Just a dull ache. Indifference maybe. She wasn’t shocked , not really. That man barely showed up in their lives. His absence had become more familiar than his presence.

What hurt wasn’t just him. It was this: watching her mother, still quietly holding on to the last thread of hope. Pretending. Smiling like she wasn’t slowly breaking year after year. And for what? A man who chose silence. Who chose distance. Who chose another life.

“It’s not fair,” Sarah murmurs. “It’s just… not right.”

She looks towards the hallway , towards Meemaw’s room. Her voice sharpens.

“So she knew? All this while?”

Her mother follows her gaze, then nods slowly. Her face is unreadable, but her eyes carried a thousand sighs.

“She’s known,” she says softly. “But… don’t say anything to her, will you? She thinks it’s none of our business.”

Sarah stiffens. “What?” Her voice rises with disbelief. “But this is our business. This is our family we’re talking about.”

Eleanor rises from the bed, the weight of years behind her. Her shoulders are slouched, not from age, but from carrying too much for too long. Her face always so gentle now held something distant. Sadder. Defeated.

“Please, dear,” she says. “I’ll find a way to deal with this. But for now... let it be.”

Sarah doesn’t answer right away. Her hands curl into fists, then relax. She exhales.

“Alright,” she says at last. “I won’t say anything. Not now.”

They sit for a moment in silence, neither of them knowing what to add.

Later, Eleanor sits alone in the kitchen, clutching a half-empty mug of tea gone cold. Through the window, she watches her daughter’s car disappear down the narrow drive, headlights fading.

The silence that follows is heavier than ever. She wraps her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. It does nothing for the cold.

Many years ago, her husband used to keep her warm on nights like this. His coat over her shoulders. His arms around her. His laughter filling the room.

Now, he had a new life. A new family, somewhere else. Somewhere warmer. She turns her face toward the empty room.

“I’ll be strong,” she whispers. “For Sarah.”

Because that’s all that’s left to do.