[Gastonia, North Carolina (April 2023)]
Maria Ortega stood in the doorway of her childhood bedroom, suitcase open on the bed, and sunlight spilling across the neatly folded clothes she had packed with almost obsessive care. The room still carried traces of who she used to be. Old posters sat upon the walls, slightly peeling at the corners, a shelf of dog-eared manga that she had read a dozen times over, and a faded ribbon pinned to a corkboard. The place felt a lot smaller now, or maybe she had just grown into someone who didn't quite fit inside it anymore.
"Did you pack enough socks?" A familiar voice called out from down the hall.
Maria smiled to herself. "Yes, Mom. I packed enough socks."
Karla Ortega appeared a moment later, drying her hands on a kitchen towel, her dark hair pulled back loosely into a messy ponytail behind her head. She leaned against the doorframe and looked around the room like she was memorizing it all over again.
"And a jacket?" Karla asked.
"It's Texas…" Maria said, raising an eyebrow.
"And buildings have air conditioning." Karla countered without missing a beat.
Maria laughed softly. "Yes, I packed a jacket. But I doubt that I'll really need it."
Karla nodded, satisfied for all of two seconds before her eyes drifted to the suitcase again. "Toothbrush?"
"Mom."
"Extra charger?"
"Mom."
Karla held up her hands in surrender, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her inner thoughts. "I just want to make sure you're ready."
Maria zipped the suitcase halfway, then paused. "Don't worry, I am."
The words hung in the air, heavier than she intended. The raven-haired woman was probably as ready as she was ever going to be. Ready for Austin. Ready for training. Ready for the kind of responsibility most nineteen-year-olds never had to think about in their lifetimes.
Karla stepped fully into the room now, her expression softening as she looked at her daughter. "I know you are."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the house filled the silence. The refrigerator in the kitchen, a car passing right outside the window, the quiet ticking of a clock that had been on Maria's wall for as long as she could remember.
"I still can't believe you're going to be gone for a whole month." Karla finally said, her voice gentler now.
"It'll go by fast." Maria replied. "They said the schedule's going to be pretty intense. I'll probably be too busy to even notice."
"That's what worries me." Karla said.
Maria sighed, closing the suitcase the rest of the way. She then sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at her mother. "Mom…it's just training. It's not like I'm being sent into a warzone, or anything like that."
"I know what it is, mija." Karla said, crossing her arms loosely. Not defensively, more like she was just trying to hold herself together. "I just…you're still my daughter."
Maria reached out and took her hand. "I'll always be your daughter."
Karla's fingers tightened around hers. "It's funny. I still remember when you were little and how badly you used to be afraid of thunderstorms." She said, a small smile flickering across her face. "You'd come running into my room and crawl into bed like the world was getting ready to end."
Maria groaned softly. "You are not bringing this up right now."
"You'd grab onto me and your father's arms so tight." Karla continued, ignoring her. "And you'd say, 'Don't let anything happen to me. Please!'"
Maria shook her head, but she couldn't help smiling. "I was six."
"And now look at you!" Karla said, her voice catching just slightly. "You're the one making sure nothing happens to anyone else."
The weight of that settled between them.
Maria swallowed, blinking back the sudden sting in her eyes. "I'm going to be fine."
"I know you will, mija." Karla said. "But that doesn't mean I won't worry about you. It's the first time we're going to be apart for so long."
Maria let out a small laugh. "I think that's part of the job description for being a mom."
"It is." Karla said, smiling. Then her expression turned serious again. "Just promise me something."
"Anything."
"Be safe, please." Karla replied. "But also…don't forget to live a little. Have some fun. You're allowed to enjoy this, you know. After all, how many chances are you going to get to experience a trip like this on the government's dime?"
Maria tilted her head. "Fun? At government training?"
"Hey, you never know." Karla shrugged. "Maybe you'll meet someone interesting while you're down there. Maybe you'll find a place you love. Maybe you'll just laugh more than you expect."
Maria considered that, then nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll try. But only because you asked."
"Not try…" Karla corrected gently. "Do."
"Alright." Maria said, smiling. "I'll have fun."
Karla studied her daughter's face for a long moment, as if committing every last detail to memory. Then she pulled Maria into a tight embrace.
Maria wrapped her arms around her mother, breathing in the familiar scent of home. Laundry detergent, coffee, something warm and unmistakably hers. For a second, she let herself just be held, not an agent, not a trainee, just a daughter.
"I'm proud of you, sweetie." Karla whispered into her hair.
Maria's throat tightened. "Thanks, Mom."
They stayed like that a moment longer before pulling apart. Karla brushed a strand of hair behind Maria's ear, the gesture automatic, unchanged by time.
"You'll call me?" The older woman asked.
"Every chance I get."
"And text?"
"Yes."
"And send me some picture-"
"Mom." Maria said, laughing through the emotion. "I promise. You'll probably get sick of hearing from me."
Karla smiled. "That's impossible."
Maria grabbed her suitcase and stood, rolling it toward the door. She paused there, glancing back at the room one last time. Then she looked at her mother.
"I'll be back soon." she said.
Karla nodded, though her eyes shimmered. "I'll be here. Like always."
Maria stepped forward and hugged her one more time, quick but fierce. Then she pulled away, squared her shoulders, and headed down the hall.
As the front door opened and the light outside spilled in, Karla called after her, "Be safe! And have fun!"
Maria turned, walking backward for a step with a grin. "I will!"
And then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her, leaving the house quieter, but filled, somehow, with something stronger than silence.