Zara’s only real struggle is with her ex’s mother, Sandra. She’s been in Zara’s life forever, more like a mom than an in-law. Which is probably why the recent lie hurt her more than she’ll ever admit out loud.
I trace the rim of my mug with my finger, listening to the sound of Zara’s footsteps coming back toward the living room. A second later, I hear another set of footsteps behind hers. I set the mug down and spring to my feet just as Marta steps inside.
She’s bundled up in a dark coat, her cheeks pink from the cold, her grey-streaked hair pulled neatly into a bun. Zara passes by me on her way to the kitchen. I smile, extending my hand.
“Hi, Marta,” I say, giving her hand a firm shake. “How’s your day been?”
Her face softens into a kind smile. “Busy,” she says with a light laugh. “But good. The bus was late again, but that’s nothing new. And your little one? How’s she doing?”
“She’s good,” I reply, relaxing a little. “Currently training her internal clock to wake up at 3 a.m.”
Marta chuckles knowingly, a warm, full sound. “Ah, a smart girl already. She knows how to keep Mama close.”
The warmth in her voice eases me instantly. It’s hard not to like her. The background check Zara’s ex ran on her came back squeaky clean, so that helps too.
Marta’s eyes do a little sweep of the room as she unbuttons her coat. “Now, I’ve met Mr. Milo,” she says with a smile. “But where is Mr. Basen?”
I force a tight smile. “He… couldn’t make it. Work, you know.”
Marta nods like she’s seen this a hundred times before and doesn’t judge. “Of course,” she says lightly, but something in her kind eyes tells me she reads more than I’m saying.
“Marta,” I say, glancing at her because this might be important somehow, “Matthew… he’s not exactly a hundred percent on board with me going back to work.”
She straightens slightly, alert.
I rush to clarify, “But it won’t affect anything, I can still pay you once I start. I promise.”
Marta smiles gently, shaking her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” Her voice softens. “Are you okay?”
I nod automatically. “Yeah. I will be. I mean-” I shrug, but the words feel flimsy.
Marta reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a firm squeeze before tugging me gently down onto the couch. I sit beside her, turning a little so I’m facing her.
“It’s like ever since we had our daughter,” I say quietly, “I stopped being Brooke in his eyes and became… the mother of his child. That’s all he sees now. He won’t eventalkto me.”
Marta’s kind face hardens just a little, like she’s seen this story before and doesn’t like how it ends. “Is he shutting you out?” she asks, her voice low but steady.
I nod.
“He controls the money?” Marta asks.
I nod again, a little slower this time.
“Is your name on the lease?”
I nod once more.
She tilts her head. “Are you sure? You’ve seen it?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “It is.”
Marta nods too, thoughtful now. “Listen,” she says gently, but there’s an edge of steel in her voice. “I don’t know you or Matthew, but in my experience, when people use silence as a weapon, there’s not much else they’re not willing to use. It stops being about the relationship and starts being about control.”
My instinct kicks in immediately. “He’s not like that,” I say quickly, a little too quickly.
Marta doesn’t argue. She just rests a warm, steady hand on my knee. “That may be true,” she says softly. “But it won’t hurt tostart saving. To have a plan. Whether it’s a family member or a friend, someone you trust. If you need it, it’s there. If you don’t…” she lifts a shoulder, “then who’ll it hurt?”
I shudder, the thought settling deep in my bones, colder than I want to admit. I know I told Matthew, I’d leave, but I didn’t really think it would come to that. He’ll change, right.
