Bigger than me.
I don’t know what he’s carrying. But I know he’s carrying something.
And for the first time, the thought doesn’t make me feel rejected.
It makes me… worried.
I don’t have time to react because from the porch I hear someone say, “Scarlett’s here!”
I turn just as she walks in—poised, effortless, timeless—and beside her is a little girl.
No older than seven. Light brown curls. Delicate blue dress. One hand gripping Scarlett’s and the other clutching a tiny stuffed lion.
“Ella.” Scarlett smiles. “This is my daughter, Aurora.”
Daughter.
My eyes go wide. “Oh, my goodness… hi, sweetheart.”
Aurora steps forward and shyly hugs my leg.
And then I see her eyes. One brown. One blue. Striking. Rare. Beautiful.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” I whisper.
She giggles and hides behind Scarlett’s leg. I want to ask a hundred questions, but instead I smile and tell Scarlett it’s good to see her.
Hours pass in a blur of food, laughter, and forced smiles. By the time I’m standing beside my mom at the sink, drying dishes, my feet ache, and my face hurts from pretending everything is fine.
She hands me a plate, then another.
“So,” she says casually. “Tell me about this mystery man.”
My stomach flips. “Who?”
She gives me a look. “The man who was supposed to come today.”
I smile despite myself. “His name’s Nathan.”
“Hmmm, do you like him?” she prompts.
“I… I do,” I admit. The words come out quieter than I expect.
She smiles, soft and warm. “That’s obvious.”
I dry a glass a little too carefully. “He was supposed to come.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Was?”
“Something came up,” I say quickly.
She pauses, then asks gently, “Something more important than you?”
I nod.
She sets the dish down and turns to me fully. “Sweetheart. There is nothing more important than you.”
I laugh under my breath. “Mom. Not everyone is going to think that way.”
