I swallow hard, the words catching in my throat.I’m scared, Mom.I keep thinking… what if something happens to you?I feel like I’m trying to hold everything together, and I don’t know if I can.But I don’t say it.I can’t.Because if I do, I’m sure tears and panic will come.Pretending is the only thing holding me together.
Opening the fridge, I try to decide between chicken or fish, like my world isn’t shifting from underneath me.
When I return to the counter, she reaches for my hand, her fingers cool.“Amelia, you don’t have to carry it all.I know you feel responsible, but I’m still your mom.I’m still here.And I’m proud of you… for everything.I don’t want you to sacrifice your life for mine.You’re young.You should be out with friends… or a nice man.”
Of course, she knows.
I never said a word, but she saw it anyway… she always does.But that’s the thing about her: she can see it even when I think I’m hiding it well.
“Luna said I’m being considered for a promotion.I’m trying not to get my hopes up.”
Her face lights up, pride shining through the exhaustion as she squeezes my hand.“I’m so proud of you.You deserve this.”
I nod, feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time.“Thanks, Mom.”
I return to cooking, the clink of utensils and the low hiss of the stove bringing me back to the moment.Behind me, the familiar noise of my family fills the kitchen.
The table’s nearly full now.Hazel, sixteen, lounges at the far end, one leg draped over the other, eyes glued to her phone.“Fifty-eight seconds flat,” she says without looking up.“Coach nearly cried.Honestly, I should be scouted already.”
Next to her, Atlas, fourteen, hunches over a napkin, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he adds scales to a dragon’s tail he’s drawing.“Hey, move your elbow,” he mumbles when Sofia leans across him, holding out a piece of paper.
“Guys, can you read with me?Just this scene,” Sofia, who’s twelve, pleads.“It’s for tomorrow’s audition.”
“Only if the dragon gets a voice too,” Atlas mutters.
A blur dashes past the table—six-year-old Felix, wearing nothing but superhero undies.“Spiderman doesn’t do broccoli!”he yells, leaping onto the sofa.
Jasper, fifteen and full of opinions, leans back in his chair.“Did you know, in Finland, they don’t even give homework?And the kids there are super smart.”He shrugs.“I’m just saying, maybe we’re the ones doing it wrong.”
One chair remains empty.No one ever sits there, even though we’ve long stopped setting a place for him.
Dad’s seat.
The back left leg still wobbles.I keep meaning to fix it, but I never do.
The noise used to feel overwhelming when I was younger, each new sibling adding another layer to the chaos.But it wasn’t the volume, it was the weight of helping, of stepping in, of becoming the one who holds it all together when no one else does.
Now, though… the noise feels like home.
After dinner, we clear the table, and Mom pulls out Monopoly.It’s our weekly tradition… no phones, just us, rolling dice, laughing, and bonding.
It starts off innocently enough.Atlas grabs the race car before anyone else can.“I’m the car.It gets better mileage,” he says seriously, like that has any effect on dice rolls.
“You never even play it right,” Sofia mutters as she snatches the banker tray and tucks it close to her chest.“You can’t buy utilities and skip paying.That’s not how strategy works.”
Atlas shrugs, already rolling.“Worked last time.”
I land on Mayfair.And of course, there’s a hotel.
“Fourteen hundred,” Sofia says smugly, extending her hand.
“Seriously?”I groan as I toss her the bills.
Felix slaps a Chance card down and yells, “I win!”
“Felix,” I say gently.“You’re in jail.”
He frowns, then grins.“Spiderman can do whatever he wants ‘cause he’s awesome.”
