My mother looked at me a few times before finally speaking. “I was a bit surprised,” she said quietly, “when Elena told me she and Haille were going to Florida on their own.”
I nodded, keeping my focus on the plate in front of me. “Yeah.”
“You shouldn’t keep yourself so busy, Adrian,” she continued, her tone not accusatory, just worried. “Can’t you take any time off? A family vacation?”
I took a short breath. “There’s a lot of work right now. The workload’s heavy. And... Elena’s leave was sudden.”
My mother nodded slowly. Too slowly. Her gaze didn’t quiet believe me, but she didn’t ask any more questions.
Two hours later, the front door opened and Avery stepped in, dropping her bag by the door.
“Hey,” she greeted casually when she saw me sitting on the couch, the TV on.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Training,” she replied. “I’m working on a new rating.”
I nodded. I didn’t ask anything else.
Avery sat down beside me. We watched without really watching. The screen was on, the sound filling the room, but our minds were clearly somewhere else.
“I need to tell Mom,” I said eventually. “She’s already suspicious… but—”
Avery turned toward me, then without warning pulled me into a hug. Her grip was firm, without hesitation.
She patted my back gently. “I’m here,” she said simply. “If you need me, I’m here.”
My chest tightened.
I stood and walked toward the kitchen. My mother was clearing the dishes. I stopped in the doorway.
“Mom... can we talk?” My voice sounded heavier than I expected.
She turned, furrowed her brow, then wiped her hands on her apron before taking it off.
“Okay,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“In the living room.”
I walked ahead and sat back down on the couch beside Avery.
My mother took the armchair across from us. She looked at both of us.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, confused. “Why do you both look so tense?”
I steadied myself before speaking. “I cheated on Elena.”
My mother froze. “What?”
“Elena isn’t gone for a vacation,” I continued, my voice flat even as my chest burned. “She needs time to think about our marriage.”
She stood up. “Oh my God…” She paced briefly, her voice trembling, then sat back down. “I don’t believe this. You’re not joking, are you?”
I stayed silent.
“My son?” Her voice rose. “The one I raised properly? Doing something like that?”
Her hand trembled in her lap, as if her body needed time to process what her mind had just heard. “I... don’t understand,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I truly don’t.”
